Ace Combat: The Dogs of Soma
by JohnnyFrost
Summary: Blaze and Edge's children are forced to fight a war in Yuktobania, now ravaged by famine and a psychotic militant group. However, the twin siblings, and Osea's army, find Yuktobania an even more terrifying place than anyone could have ever imagined.
1. Eyes

"_I journey to Hell to meet friends; damned souls anew. They are the same as me and they are all I'll ever be. We all have the same sins: lust, vice, wrath and avarice; we are myopic, cruel, and capricious. Off to the sky to do battle they go; but I'll stay on the Earth…I only await my rivals on the battle ground…and that fate is all I'm worth."_

Chapter 1: Eyes

**August 18, 2037**

We lived in in Pikes Hugo, Alaska. As in most places in Northern Osea, the weather always had a wind attached to it. It was a time far removed from simple war, where planes fought and tanks drove. Osea was a much different land then. It had only been twenty years since the last war, but the world was still in conflict. Everything and nothing changed like the seasons which always began where it started. Leaders changed, ideals were thrown away…and yet the grassy plans of Akerson Hill were untouched and the white powder miles from Sand Island was a timeless guardian of that perfect scene when I first learned what love meant.

The ice of Northern Osea was still its harmful beauty; the snow was as dangerous and wondrous as the sun to a person's eyes over a short time. When I was a child, I could look and see how thick or thin the white blankets were on a clear day and plan accordingly. Everything I saw became a part of my memory and it never left. But I was not alone.

Brandon Black was my name. Well, not quite. My hated third grade teacher called me "Ran" by mistake. Children were children and the name stuck to my life forever. Though I forget when I fully embraced it. That was strange for someone of my…condition. And Black? It was just a pseudonym my parents had for last names.

The eyes told all. They were the first thing I saw because when I remembered the bright light, and the doctor holding me. I stared into my mother's chocolate eyes for the first time and I knew she loved me more than anything else. And yet, I didn't need to see the crook of her left eye look toward another person. _I_ looked left and remember more brown eyes staring back at me. They were eyes of my other half, my twin sister. We were everything we saw in the other person.

I was born nineteen years ago. I was conceived in a war and everything about it since has been against that awful idea…at least to some people.

"_Soldiers are different from night and day, but it's all the same._ _Our duty is concerned primarily with taking lives...not preserving them, no matter how much we want to think otherwise. Those who wish for peace are eternally disappointed." _

I remembered a lot of things. Those words were from the sergeant who first taught me how to kill. Ironic, since my parents were those to whom my superiors were talking about. Ironic, since they were killers in a type of combat that was faceless and yet was equally cold as the war on the ground. They were the ones who fought in the air.

Of course, everyone and their mother, sister and third cousin removed knew that. See, I grew up with a lot of secrets I had to keep. My parents raised me and my sisters with knowledge only government types in sunglasses and bad, charcoal suits would have only known. The world thought they were dead; not true obviously.

My parents were feared and hated by a land that was a shell of its former self. You see, they were the nightmares of every Yuktobanian pilot six years before I was even on the world's surface. In some instances, they were in the dark corners of their own allies' minds. My mom never read that story to me though; that is, the story for which they were named. She read me something different. Of course, I'd remember each picture in the book and every goofy layout and fractal design the artwork had. They always made me laugh.

I knew, Tasha knew, even the youngest sister, Astrid, knew. We knew were the kids of people who were the monsters inside so many dead memories.

Things had changed obviously since my parents haunted the world. See, the world evolved while David Lovecraft and Kei Nagase were still in the shadows. One might think Osea didn't…well…after all they hadn't been in a war since they pulled out of Versua in 2017. I sure as hell didn't think it changed. Some people complained about that quite enough. But typical for them, no one acted on it…not because they didn't want to do anything, because they couldn't.

I was not a soapbox person. My sister wasn't either. We did something about our lives. We enlisted in the Osean Army on the same day.

Why? Ironic that after the talking my parents did about peace, I joined the machine. Though, I didn't follow my parents into the air. Again, not because we didn't want to…it was because we couldn't. First, I couldn't get into any of the Officer Candidate Schools. Some nitwit in the Osean government cut funding to colleges and negated some access to the military. Then again, I wasn't that good a student anyway. We were smart, just not _that_ smart. I wasn't bitter though. Now Tasha, on the other hand, was pretty bitter at first. I got by with dreams and my sister often looked up to me, even if we were the same age and dimensions. I would have made the perfect pilot; I certainly had the eyesight for it. I think I got it from my dad. The doctors couldn't explain it. My eyes were almost telescopic. They called it Octostoma, some strange name that didn't matter past my fifth birthday. Everything I saw though became a part of my memory. They called it a photographic memory; I called it a gift.

My sister was always in my memories. I could pick up a picture and it was in my head. One was of me and her when were fifteen. I knew everything from the dimple on her cheek, the trace of her tan skin and the perfect, yet asymmetrical black hair she had; the kind that could make a guy's heart explode at its beauty. Beneath them were my own eyes, as she was always a part of me. I didn't act like her though and she didn't act like me either. She was often an outright rebellious teenager, I just did a lot of silly things like jump ramps in an ATV or jump into our pool from the roof.

"What's out there? There's nothing but the same grass you've seen a million times." I heard the liquid silver voice say. She didn't sound like a soldier.

We were both in regular uniforms. She was in the Charlie suit, the olive pants and greenish shirt. I was in the special, bluish green uniform given to the elite soldiers among which I found myself. Her hair wasn't her long black. Instead she was bald. It wasn't because of cancer or anything, or respecting the fact I had to shave off my hair. She had an "accident" three days before when her hair caught on fire. Go figure.

"It's the last time I'll see it for six months." I said, my head slightly turned for the ground.

My parents' house seemed alien to me. I'd been gone for nearly a year and I'd forgotten the gray siding, the bluish green grass and the clashing dark blue, turquoise, white and yellow paint jobs all around the home. My parents were Blaze and Edge in the sky. They were unified, like me and Tasha. They were always in sync and one would always die to protect the other. But their interior decorating was a bit of a weakness.

"Why does that matter so much? It's not like you'll never see it again." my sister said.

I just turned my head to her and gave her a look of _curious_ disapproval. Tasha laughed.

"Damn, I was just kidding..."

_My…how times had changed._ Everything was almost unrecognizable in our time. The carriers looked more like cities than fighting ships. Planes were almost spaceships and the guns were something out of my memories of terrible sci-fi movies. They didn't shoot lasers though.

I was born into this world. The face of the new war was total battlefield control. However, it was only in its infancy when I started. The top officers had definitely learned some valuable lessons from the last two wars. For almost twenty years, this country had not been in a major war. Oh, there were a few minor conflicts like the Versuan Oil Crisis when I was just seven years old. This long period of relative peace was not wasted as they had been after the Belkan War. Everyone had to be ready.

Of course, the planes were always advancing. Everyone knew that. My father made that quite clear in his not-so-tall tales about the past. Now, the ground war had caught up. That recruiter at my high school made _that_ quite clear as well. The lines between air, sea, and land warfare were beginning to blur. The advent of the Osean Marine Corps' Power Recon Division changed the rules of war…or at least, that's what the higher ups said at the time.

The idea was that soldiers could function from any environment with only minimum training with the help of a new, ingenious piece of equipment: The Ultimate Warrior Suit. It was seemingly perfect combination of body armor, computers, sensors and every other tiny gadget invented by Osea in the past fifty years. It was designed for total battlefield access. Every bit of information could be attained from the suit. Everything could be monitored and even those X-88 Automatic Rifles that replaced the M4s in 2021 could be patched into the system for better accuracy. It was amazing.

I was hooked.

I threw all my parents' cautionary tales into the abyss and began my journey. But typical Tasha…she wasn't coming without me!

_Ran, are you crazy? You're doing what?!_

_I'm joining the Marines! I want to be a part of that stuff. That UWS thing they showed us…unbelievable. Forget trying to get into the officer corps. I want the title of Power Recon Soldier._

_What?_ _You're insane!_

_You know me better than anyone._

_Well, you're insane if you think you're going to run off to Camp Angel without me. I'll do something. They let us carry guns too._

_Tasha…Tasha…they don't let women onto the front lines!_

_Well, you're still not going alone. I will come kicking and screaming if I have to...you know this better than anyone._

_I'll never be alone._

_No, you **need** me…I'm your other half. We're nothing without each other._

_You still believe that…even for a seventeen year old with a makeup case the size of Belka?_

_Yeah...I do._

_Fine. We're going into the fire together._

_Mom is going to __**kill**_ _us._

_Not if Dad strangles us first._

Why did I do that? I thought about it later. Was it those stories of Mom and Dad being Edge and Blaze once upon a time? Was it was all that horrible news about Yuktobania? No, it was all those stories about heroism that filled my soul as a boy. I wanted to be that kind of person: the larger than life man, the person everyone would look up to and respect, and the kind of person that the wrong people would fear. I wanted to be a hero. The problem, there weren't a whole lot of heroes in the world. There were even fewer in Yuktobania...if there were any at all.

If the Underworld was on this world's surface, Yuktobania was it. It was bad enough that the country had been torn apart by civil war back then. Now some other extremist group had taken over. But there was no one to fight back against them. Apparently, that land couldn't catch a break. Mother Nature was a bitch. Yuktobania was going through a famine of biblical proportions in some places. There was no way to explain it. Entire spans of crops failed and with the country already in economic ruin, everyone started tearing themselves apart.

My parents had taken in an orphan from that terrible war. But she'd left for her homeland a decade ago…and now she was trying to get the hell out of Yuktobania as quick as humanly possible…again. She was married and in her thirties now, Sueltana Devia-Ariev. I always liked her. She reminded me of myself. She made me want to take on the world. Well, that lasted for eight years. Now everything was gone and some strange fascist group known as "Soma" was making her homeland a living hell. However, this all started the moment we left home for training. No one knew much about them.

Our parents weren't displeased with us for joining the Corps; at least, as we had thought before. They were worried out of their freaking minds, however. I remembered the warm cheek of my mother's teary-eyed face before I left her for months. Camp Angel at Arizona Island was only the beginning of the fiery baptism. There was no resentment at my choice, however long I ached and nursed one bruise after another. It took nearly eight and half months, but I made. I was a Power Recon Marine, a master of sea, air and land…sort of. I was a rookie, a Private First Class in a company of men who were all better than me. But I made it and it was that mattered.

Private First Class Brandon Black, Power Recon Marine, Company A, aka "Werewolf", Team 2 under Lieutenant Dickerson: that was my title.

It was there that I realized that everything was a continuous process.

_My name is Lieutenant Moute, and I'm going to be training you for our newly established Power Recon Division. It used to be called Force Recon…but everything changes. War changes and war never ends. You privates, along people from every rank above your own, have been chosen for the backbone of the division based on intelligence, aptitude, and skill. But I don't see it from any of you! Not yet though. You have to earn the right to wear these new uniforms and use the new equipment. And you will __**earn**_ _it gentlemen. There are seventy of you here…only ten of you will make it. _

_Come on! Concentrate! Men are dying out there! Focus on your surroundings Black!_

_Forget everything about thou shall not kill. Not only will you kill, you must…or you're going home in pieces. You are a target and everything out there is trying to kill you._

_Observation is very important, as is awareness. You have to know what's going on a moment's notice. You have to be masters of detail._

_Fear is a weakness, distrust is a weakness. Trust your equipment and the people above and below you. Take care of those things and they'll take care of you. The suit and the rules will protect you._

_Those men in planes are the cocky ones. But you will be ones who win the war!_

Those words were locked into my brain like it was some powerful hard drive.

I'd been based at Arizona Island near St. Hewlett for the previous three weeks. Training had wrapped up and now we were going on a humanitarian mission of all things. But I knew better. Our mission was not just for charity. It was so different from Sgt. Welling's ironic statement in boot camp. The Soma group was pushing east toward the coast and aid groups were in trouble. No one had declared any official war yet. At the time, my father bitterly remarked that history was repeating itself. Then again, my dad was right all the time. That was something I'd admired about him. When I did something dumb, he was always right. He was always on my case. He was worried about me, but I saw that slight smile on his face when we came back from Camp Angel. He was proud of us. He loved our stature and the way we were now guardians of the free world.

Tasha was just in a transportation company. My sister still had the audacity to wish she could serve on frontline duty...but she had no idea what that truly included. As such, she wasn't coming with me. As I looked at her, I didn't seem like I was a guardian of any freedom. Yuktobania was on its last legs as a nation. We were taking steps into the unknown. But it wouldn't stop what I believed in. I wanted to be the man who made a difference.

Then, her hand was on my shoulder and a smile came across her lips as if she was staring into the face of some deity.

"Here's to the end." Tasha said.

A door cracked, and loud steps were heard. Then I was assaulted by some eleven year old monster, scientific name: Astrida Arachnida Horrendus…or Astrid Black, my other little sister. Her clothes were all dirty, probably from some softball game she was in. My other sister looked nothing like us. She was _tiny_ for an eleven year old. She looked more like my father with the exception of the strawberry brown hair, one that was a few shades lighter than my mom's crown. Tasha and I were carbon copies of Kei Nagase in a few aspects, save our father's hair color.

"Hey!" Tasha said, as she took her sis into her arms and kissed her on the forehead; the same thing she did to everyone else. My dad said Tasha reminded her of someone he served with in Versua; a rather famous woman in Oured: Lillian Izzo.

"We took her out of camp early so she could see you off." My mother said.

My mother looked a few years younger than her even fifty years in some places. Still, I always saw those same eyes of compassion my father loved even then. I paid no attention to the wrinkles around them or the graying, chocolate hair or her withering, skeleton-like hands. She was as pale as she was when she was twenty three. She may not have looked or acted like she was fifty…but something in her looked frailer. I never could figure out if it was solely her worrying about our military training or her cancer scare a few years back.

My father was the same statuesque figure he always was. He was like that mountain in the distance, always there, always reliable and always watching over everyone below him. A person couldn't pick him out of a police line-up though. No wonder they'd stayed hidden all these years.

"Thanks." I said. I then took my hand and messed up Astrid's hair. I always did that to tick her off, but that time she just laughed.

"I'll miss you. Can you see if Sueltana is alright?" she said, her cherry voice flooded into my ears.

Everyone loved Sueltana and her charm. I still missed her, but I knew more than anyone else in the family. The chances of her being alright were slim.

"I'll try." I said, my voice soft.

My dad then turned away and looked like he'd seen his dead mother in the mirror. "I haven't heard anything from her. I hope she's okay. It's pretty damn bad over there."

I heard a horn blowing outside and everyone's heads snapped towards the downstairs area.

"Oh! That's Brandon's girlfriend, isn't it?" Astrid said. Tasha lightly smacked her upside the head. I'd dated Dulcinea for a year, but it was not her. Kei gave her a disapproving look once Astrid got ticked off, and I let out a chuckle.

"No…that's just my buddies. They're taking us to the marshalling area." I said.

Tasha scoffed and shook her head. She put her sis on the ground. "I don't know how you put up with those guys."

I wasn't going to let Tasha talk about my buddies, Micho and the Sheck, like that. "You wouldn't say that to their faces."

"Whatever." Tasha added.

We walked down the carpeted steps into the living room. The house was always quiet. My parents never liked that much buzz about their home. They took a lot of pride in that. My parents were much more sentimental. The carpet was a beautiful powder blue.

"Cormorance's son is also in your squad right?" My father asked. I hadn't talked about my Recon Training with him...mainly because he wouldn't understand all the murderous training and cutthroat competition that went on at Arizona Island, our training ground.

I looked to the left and I saw a talking head on a muted television. I arched an eyebrow and said, "Yeah…wait…turn up the television."

Tasha reached for the white, plush couch and flipped the remote with some brilliant sleight of hand. The volume came up and some woman in a black blazer was on the television.

…_there is no word on official casualties, but if you're just joining us we have a breaking news story. An absolutely terrifying event has taken place. A massive blast, believed to be a nuclear explosion, has just rocked downtown Ocktabursk._

There was this pause where the Earth stopped spinning and everyone froze. The Moon's tide stopped. Everyone's mouths were open and their feelings torn, sweat was dripping down their faces and fingernails were bit; all were waiting for an answer. Our community became silent. Lips trembled and tears were shed in a few places. My blood was thick as cold syrup. Everything in me came to a complete stop and I could only stare at my sister. Tasha and I locked eyes and we saw the terrible truth as a sun's wrath rained down on some major city across the Ceres. History, it seemed, never stopped.

The only question was...did anyone else realize it?

Next Chapter: The Werewolf Company


	2. The Werewolf Company

Chapter 2: The Werewolf Company

"My god," my mother said. Her hands were over her mouth. I could see my mom's hands shaking, each bone having its own level of fear.

We were all deathly silent, until my mother's little monster spoke up.

"We…are _so_ screwed, aren't we?" Astrid asked.

My father, Blaze, the ironic man with ice water in his body…didn't have a response. I knew what he was thinking, though. He'd seen this disaster before, years before he became a pilot. He was a child when the Belkan War started and saw the flames of North Belka consume people in the low five figures. His father had died there, a victim of radiation poisoning after being shot down. How did he feel? How could an eight year old kid watch the destructive power of a million stars?

The world never stopped spinning, but it sure felt like it did at the time. A world away, a city burned and we were left only to watch the results. It didn't happen here though. A large Yuktobanian city was wiped off the face of the world in the amount of time it took to welcome the youngest child in our family home…and for me to say goodbye. We were heading into the war zone. Originally, the Soma had stopped and talks were on with the deposed Loyalist government.

Of course, our real mission had no real humanitarian ends. I was a soldier fresh out of three months of boot, and nearly five months of Recon training, but I wasn't stupid enough, nor was anyone else, to believe our Division Commander's speech about _helping the Yukes_. The true purpose of our trip was to test out the Ultimate Warrior Suit in a hostile country.

You couldn't get much more hostile than Yuktobania. Our mission changed in a few seconds. We weren't doing any more fun OPFOR/ BLUFOR exercises with fake lasers and smoke bombs. We weren't handing out food to a starving population. We were going in lock, stock and barrel to the gun line…and so would the rest of Osea's army. Tasha and I knew that before anyone in our family. We knew because our Queue 30s were lighting up with instant messages.

Ah, the loved and dreaded Queue 30. This device allowed soldiers to communicate with friends and family from anywhere on the globe through either inter-camera footage or text messages. It was the size of my hand and it contained many bells and whistles such as a keyboard, portable camera, internet, etc. It was built to take a lot of abuse. The bill was footed by the taxpayers so Private Black could talk to his parents while in North Point.

The Queue 30B series, the one I had, was designed specifically for the Ultimate Warrior Suit. It didn't have the cool midnight look Tasha's had. Mine only had the drab gray case color and amber screen. This device was the genius of the Queue Communications Company (QCC) which began deploying them into the field ten years ago. Everyone had a password and their own ID name for the system. My inbox was flooded with notes.

The Werewolves were calling me, my company; my own band of brothers.

That was the problem. Your commanding officers always had access to the system and you couldn't lock them out. You could be anywhere and you'd get some note from a 2nd Light Bar about anything. They always knew where you were because of this advanced, tiny fusion capacitor that absorbed all kinds of radiated energy to keep it on at all times.

Tasha was shaking her head as she got a torrent of IMs from her people in the 154th Transportation Company, the ones attached to the 3/5 (Third Battalion, Fifth Regiment). As for me, I was getting my own series of spam from everyone in the company: Micho, Sheck, William Lt. Dickerson, Alphonso, Cameron…

"We're being called. We gotta go." I said. My voice was heavy and my feet refusing to move.

"Don't go! You…" Astrid said, tugging at me while I tried to walk.

"I'm sorry, but I've got to get back to the base too." Tasha said. Her hand was on her sister's shoulder.

I scanned through the messages and my tone became more terse and quieter. I could hear my own teeth grinding against each other. Maybe a word slipped out, because my dad was suddenly putting his hand on my shoulder. I knew he knew what I was thinking. The message I wanted to see was not there. My beloved Dulcinea was not on the Unread Messages pane. The man formerly known as Blaze didn't need to be told much to get it.

"It's all gone wrong. Hasn't it, dad?" I asked him.

"Pretty much. People are capable of learning from their mistakes and yet we're pretty damn good at repeating things."

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't apologize for anything. You're going to be part of the solution. There's nothing to regret." He said.

He was right…and wrong. There was plenty to regret. My dad always knew how to get the most out of the few words he spoke.

There were nine hundred things going through my mind. The most important thing was Dulcinea Dasana. I prayed nothing happened to her. I was lost in a sea of scattered puzzle pieces; the remains of my memories. She was with a humanitarian group called White Rose based in Yuke-held area called Bethlehem Park, the ruins of a hotly contested city during the Veruso-Yuktobanian Conflict before only months before I was even conceived.

It started the summer before I went to boot camp and I met her, ironically, on the white sands of Cara's Cove, an upper middle class area just a few miles from the derelict ruin once known as Sand Island. Dulcinea was the daughter of Yuke-Osean citizens. She was trying to find a rare UMD in a store and I was _desperate_ for a date. I made a dinner bet with her that I could find it. I won and everything that followed kept me up for nights on end. I couldn't stop dreaming about her peach-yellow skin and that golden amber hair. All hiding those eyes like the ocean beneath the boardwalk. Then she got drunk and plowed her car right through a bus shelter. After all that, she had the gall to pull this number: "Do you know who I am?!"

Hell, she might as well have called racial profiling since they were stopping everyone near that fallen light pole. After she got out of jail, she got drunk again, threw up on my shoes while apologizing for running over someone _else's_ cat.

The judge sentenced her to 200 hours of community service. I just made it through the Recon Indoc and was in the first phase of Ultimate Warrior training at the time. It was in those soup kitchens she learned just how crappy life can be for some people and just like me and Tasha were forged in fires of Camp Angel's drill instructors, she too was reborn in the fires of misery, pain and the endless resolve to never give in. She fell in love with helping people…and me. That was why she was in Yuktobania. I fell in love with the Corps and Dulcinea. That was why I was _going_ to Yuktobania.

The only thing I wanted was for my beloved girl to be as far away from Yuktobania as possible.

Then there was Sueltana, Jakob and their daughter Luna to think about. They had been incommunicado for _weeks_…

"Brandon, can I talk to you for a minute?" my mother asked me. I didn't even see her come up to me; I was so focused on the…_what if_.

"Sure."

My mom led me through the living room and into the kitchen. Past the porcelain and linoleum she reached the door near the cleaning closet. The door opened and the basement's darkness was quickly snuffed out when I turned on the light. We walked down the creaky, wooden stairs my father kept forgetting to have fixed. However, he was terrible at carpentry. We stepped over twenty years of crap my parents had shoved down here. Twenty years of magnetic weapons, Queue 30s, lasers and holographic images…and my mother couldn't throw anything out! She rummaged around until she found one strangely colored box and opened it. Inside was a metal container and when she opened it, the darkness inside revealed a red book.

"I have something for you. I think you'll find it more useful than I ever did." She said, handing me the book.

"What is this?" I said, holding it like I would a newborn baby.

"It's the diary I kept while your father and I fought in Yuktobania. I wanted you to have it anyway in case…something happened to me." My mother said. She looked away, obviously worried.

Why was she saying _something_? I was barely nineteen, I knew more than enough about death. My eyes darted back and forth between her and the book.

"Why are you giving me this? I mean, I don't want to go invade your privacy…that's just not right." I said.

My mother put her hand on the side of my face, then took her quivering hand and placed it on my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. It's a time far away from who I am now, and yet sometimes I wonder if I've really changed at all."

"Thanks." I said, lightly pulling away. "I love you, mother."

Not wanting to keep my friends waiting at the door, I gave my mother the biggest hug I could almost forgetting I was a foot taller. I could _bench press_ her. I let her go before I suffocated her. She only laughed.

"I love you. Be safe." She said. Then she stopped me, "And one more thing, Brandon..."

"What?" I asked. Kei grasped my hand, her bony fingers around me and her chocolate eyes staring into my own.

"Decide what's more important: who you are...or why you're there." she said.

Soon after, she had her arms around me and I wouldn't leave. I knew what she meant…but I'd decide the answer when I touched down in Yuktobania. There was no getting around it. Power Recon was going to that country anyway. Now we were going into the fire. I knew at some point, the rest of Osea…and Tasha too would follow.

I forced myself away and ran up the steps into the den, slowing down only to give my dad a hug and mess up Astrid's hair again. After the endless goodbyes, I was out the door as Tasha followed me. I fled into the breezy morning light. My steps were not as heavy as I'd thought they'd be. I thought I'd have a hard time trying to get to Sergeant Sheckenhousen's car. However, the Sheck's usual impatience showed its head when he blew his horn three more times as I was _only_ halfway down the driveway.

"Come on!" a voice yelled from the back of the four door sedan. The tinted windows made it impossible to see who else was in the car.

I knew who it was. I knew there were two other people in the car, one of whom was Micho Alou. But Micho was more of a nasal-sounding person. He was never a person who was in a hurry to get anywhere. No, that voice was in the back seat and it was Walter Snow. This flattop haired, dark skinned kid was the son of the Swordsman character, William Snow, who flew alongside my father back in 2010. His father was killed before he was even born. My generation had many children of broken and shattered homes because of the Verusan War.

Walter and I had some history, to be kind. He was always doing stupid stuff. In boot camp, he royally screwed up our drill competition and we had to do midnight wind sprints for coming in last. Then a week later, he got into it with a drill instructor and tried to blame some contraband on me. Not to mention my last straw with him when he openly questioned my sexuality during chow…and I punched him in the face. I lost my Lance Corporal rank and got sent to the dreaded Sand Pits as punishment. Walter had it coming though, and I never regretted it. My platoon mates treated me as a hero. My parents and my sisters had rather…livid reactions to my boxing skills. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. But now he'd been on his best behavior. Maybe he knew a war was coming.

Walter got out of the other side of the car. "What the hell took you so long?"

I was always game for the dumb question, even though I knew what kind of person Walter was. "Haven't you been watching the news!?"

"What happened?" He said. My jaw hit the ground and popped out the other side of the world.

"A nuke went off in the middle of Ocktabursk just now!" I shouted.

"What…I don't care about _that_. Just mean more action for us. At least I'm getting something out of this." he said. I just shook my head.

"Excuse me?" Tasha said. I was caught off guard by her statement. Then…

Out of the car came everyone else: Sheckenhousen, Micho Alou…and the Rocket Man, Rico Lazarus. Rico was the tallest guy in the company and, apart from Micho, probably the best looking one. So why was I surprised when my sister ran up to him and started kissing him? Why was I surprised when she rubbed her fingers through his hair that contained enough oil to lubricate Micho's giant SUV for three years?

"Tasha! I forgot you were here!" Rico said, trying to separate himself from Tasha.

"Rico! Wha…I…" Tasha stammered out.

I arched an eyebrow. "Tasha, you didn't tell me you two were going out?"

"Well, you never asked." Rico said, quick to counter.

I didn't react. Why would have reacted? I didn't dislike Rico and I respected Tasha. What was the problem? Rico was one of the more respected NCOs in the company. They called him Rocket Man since he and the Stovie-born Tristan worked the Javelin X launchers, our tank killers. But, some would say that he has that nickname from another…source. Then I looked at Tasha again…and I laughed inside my head.

Tasha walked back towards me. "I was going to tell you before all this craziness."

Her tone was rather…off. But if her voice was odd, Rico's was even odder when he said, "What, the bomb going off? Please, it wasn't that bad. It wasn't even a tactical nuke. It was just some dirty bomb inside a chemical factory. The media's over blowing it."

"Are you kidding me?" Tasha said.

"I could care less about the city. Just get me in the action." Rico asked.

"Rico, this is the first time I've ever agreed with you on something." Walt said.

Tasha's reaction was neither pleasant or of full disgust. She looked deadpan. It was almost as if she couldn't believe what Rico said. I sure as hell didn't. I watched the television as if I was there a few miles from the blast, watching thousands of people die. I was angry at both of them.

I noticed the way Micho looked at Walt when he said that. It was the exact same look Micho gave Walt on the third week in boot camp. It was after inspection and Micho was looking at a picture of his mother, Potenza. Walter came over and said,

"Damn…you're mom's pretty good looking. When did your pops marry your mom? Did she get hitched at fifteen? Isn't that illegal!? What kind of name is Potenza? Isn't that a car part or something?"

But Micho was silent. He wasn't as prone to blow a gasket like his father would.

Walter was always mouthing off about something. Walter was the only man in the company I wished would just go away. There were always the guys in the squad that were screwing off. Erik Martin, of our Team 1, was always crazy…but he was in good fun. Walter had the attitude of a killer bee, petulant and vicious.

I knew Walter well…I went to St. Mary Anna's High School with him. Walter was just emotionally sideways. Walter punched his sister in the face for no reason at all, and then called her some really vulgar terms involving the female anatomy. His sister, a fourteen year old girl! Then he had a choice when the cops came. He was only in the Corps because he had to be…or he would have been in jail. The real crime was that he made Recon anyway!

Walt's father was already dead and his mother died when he was eight. And yet his younger sister and his brother weren't anti-social people.

I didn't know which was more amazing: a nuke in the middle of a Yuke city, my sister dating Rico, or Micho and Walter actually sharing a car ride.

"Okay, that's enough. We need to get a move on." The Sheck said.

My sister smiled at Rico and it was like she forgot what shocked her in the first place. She kissed him again and she walked off.

"I have to go. I'll see you around." She said to Rico with a smile larger than the Great Lakes.

"Good luck." She said to me as she walked out of earshot. I saw the lack of a smile on her face when she said that to me. Her walk was not the usual uppity step. Something was off.

I took pride in the control I had in my life. Now in the span of a few minutes, all my control was gone. My girlfriend was in peril…probably. My sister was dating someone she didn't tell me about. And Tasha wasn't as gregarious with me as she was in front of anyone else. She didn't even kiss me on the cheek in front of Rico. What was going on? My father taught me to pay attention to little stuff…and this felt like little bits of erosion. I wasn't sure if I was overacting, but I picked up a strange vibe from all this.

Micho walked over to me, and I finally noticed he was wearing his Gabane sunglasses. He was not in uniform, having gotten his notice to return to base while he was on the road. He just patted my shoulder and smiled. Micho Alou, the man of few words. I threw my bags into the trailer hitched to the back and we climbed into the Sheck's sedan. The Sheck had a huge car. It was a newer model with a set of opposing seats to fit about eight people in it. However, it at gas like no one's business but it was plenty of room for me to fit in. The Belkans loved their giant cars.

We were in the border between the Alaska and Montana Districts. We were going to Arizona Island, St. Hewlett and to get there we had to drive for an hour then get on a plane. The entire way I couldn't think straight. My body didn't show it. I was lost in a still, blank state where my brain cells were over-clocking. There was nothing from Dulcinea. I'd sent two messages, but there was silence. Frustrated, I went to my photos and pulled up the picture of us at Cara's Cove some weeks ago while I had the weekend off from training. Then there was one of her and Tasha together at the beach. All the women in my life were divided by an ocean and miles of grassy fields. It was like a marble under the bed and a marble in the bathroom. I didn't have enough length to reach either. Finally, after nearly forty five minutes of silence, while Sheckenhousen told his absurd, filthy stories, my Queue 30 started beeping…the sound when Dulcinea was trying to contact me.

"Who's that?" asked Rico.

"Dulcinea! Thank God! I thought she bit the big one!" I said, not even thinking or caring what anyone said. I fumbled around the Queue device trying to find the IM chat pane on the menu.

"You're full of it, Ran. You know good and well Bethlehem Park is nowhere near Ocktabursk!" Rico said.

"Well, when are we going to meet your phantom girlfriend?" asked Sheck.

"Whenever we get home." I said, turning the Queue around to the keypad. Meanwhile, Walt kept looking over my shoulder trying to get a peak at our private conversation. Her screen name was Dicey, but it wasn't actually my idea. It was actually Astrid's idea, an annoying nickname…a trademark for her.

_**Dicey: Ran? Ran!? I'm here!**_

_**I thought you were dead! Thank God, you're alive!**_

_**Dicey: It's scared. I wish I could hold you now-**_

"God your girlfriend's such a needy bitch." Walter said.

I actually ignored him for the moment. I didn't need to get involved…since Sgt. Sheckenhousen did it for more.

"Enough already Walt! Jesus, you're nineteen and you've already got _wife-beater_ written all over you. There are terrorists that treat women better than you do." said Sheck.

"Micho, I still think you shouldn't have gotten married. That girl is going to cost you a fortune. She sees you as a mark." Rico…_Rico_ said. Not Walt. _Rico_.

Yet, Micho still let it roll off his back. Then…

_**Dicey: Oh damn…I've got to go. Something's come up. Love you.**_

She exited out of the chat before I could finish. I closed my eyes and my head fell back into the seat.

"You too." I said. I closed the Queue.

Rico grabbed my shoulder. "Don't worry about her. We're going to handle things buddy. We're the first to damn fight, hoorah!"

"Hell yeah! We're going to strike down revenge and furious anger on the Soma!" Micho said, acting out of character a bit. We bumped knuckles and I could only think how his wife would react if she knew how psyched my friend was to shred some terrorists.

They kept saying these things like fighting was the only point they were trying to make. I understood all the _hoorah_ and _kill_ chants. They'd been beaten into my head since boot camp. And yet, they didn't get it was about Dulcinea and a smaller degree Tasha. They didn't get that fighting this unknown enemy was completely _not_ the point.

***

**August 19, 2037**

**Arizona Island **

**Power Recon Division Headquarters, Osean Marine Corps Branch**

**St. Hewlett Naval Base**

Arizona Island wasn't an island. It was actually a peninsula, but calling it Arizona Peninsula was a mouthful…plus it just sounded dumber. One might have considered it an extension of St. Hewlett anyway. This facility was the holy ground of Osea's newest combat arm: the Power Recon Division. There were two regiments and in those were three battalions to a regiment. I was in Werewolf Company, 1st Battalion, and the 2nd Regiment. The other companies in our regiment were Vampire and Raptor. The entire division was less than 8,000 men and women. It was the smallest division in the Osean Armed Forces. The reasons were rather obvious to us.

Only three thousand of us had the UWS system. The others were support personnel like helicopter pilots, a tank battalion, medical staff, etcetera and so on. Everyone was linked to a special system called TAC-NAV ZERO, a computer system that linked every important person to the proper channels for information access. For example, I had access to certain information like IFF, private and public communication and the locations of enemy forces. Meanwhile, officers had access to air frequencies, tank units, AWACS, helicopters, etc. That was the reason we had such good officers and NCOs. You had to be a damn good to handle the sensory overload. That was one of the reasons many were dropped out of Recon School…it was also the reason my generation was the predominant backbone of the Division.

The humanitarian mission was a cover to test the UWS in the field. Now we were like the understudy, going out onto the stage when the lead goes down with laryngitis.

Our company was commanded by Captain Morrison and his cabal of lieutenants would be the men to lead us into battle. Or maybe they were the men that would hide behind us. It didn't matter at this point. I had no word from Dulcinea since the previous day. It was 0400, the earliest we'd ever had a briefing. We were in the Blue Room, the official company briefing room. It looked more like the room of mainframes and servers where my mom worked.

Since many of us lived all over Osea, we were originally given two weeks off before we left on our _humanitarian_ mission with loaded guns and ultra advanced technology. _Yeah, that would help starving people, _I thought. As such, the briefing was delayed until now. More than enough time for President Viola Shelley to further project her aggressive, trigger happy nature into a declaration of war against the Soma regime. President Shelley, she was a piece of work. Her policies were the reason the UWS existed in the first place…and taxpayers were shelling out for _our_ comfort. But few complained…it was all for the upkeep of Osean National Security.

Though, the second female president in Osean history identified with Walter's people more than my own. I had nothing against Shelley personally. I just felt she was just like President Mary Cohen from twenty years ago: gun-happy, short-tempered and overly quick to be proactive. My parents, not surprisingly, hated the Madame President. It was ironic…since she was elected from my Alaska District's Senate. I voted for Shelley…only because the other candidate was a buffoon.

But that didn't matter to Sgt. Dietrich Sheckenhousen of Dinsmark, Belka and Lance Corporal Micho Alou from Rouge Park, Osea; a dominantly Versuan populated city. Both were married, although in Micho's case he was married to Rachel, a twenty four year old woman, who was carrying his son. As such, he'd been subjected to no shortage of jokes from the others, like Walt…not surprisingly.

However, Walt never understood the Verusan culture. In Versuan culture, it was very common for men and women to marry young and have tons of kids. It was a status symbol. That's why Micho is the oldest of _six_ siblings, and his father already has three grandkids. His older sister Leera had died a few years ago.

They were more concerned with a wager they were having…rather than the mission at hand.

"So, how does this competition work?" I asked.

"Okay, we came up with this brilliant idea. Now, I have to tell you the story. My father, the great ace from twenty years ago, he told me this story about a guy he knew in the service. His name was Fisch or something…Andrew Fisch. Now after the war, Fisch went into the PMCs…some company called Spade Six or something." Micho said.

Sheckenhousen continued. "My wife's boss is this real short Versuan chick named Sasha Masson. Her ex-husband was the guy who flew on Fisch's wing; this Versuan guy named Ammon, who everyone thought was a bit fruity. So they're in Anea and they're both with these two other chicks. One was this other Verusan pilot, just a knockout and a well-endowed one at that if you know what I mean. Fisch married this blonde stripper from Vegas. Now five years before he died getting drunk and flipping his SUV s on the I-12 seventeen times, he came up with this game he played with Ammon."

"They declared a competition to see who could smuggle out the most souvenirs from the war zone and the loser bought the winner and his girl dinner." Micho said with a smile on his face.

"So, the Sheck and I are doing this thing. It's me and Rachel against the Sheck and Irene."

"But you can't smuggle anything out of a warzone these days! If you guys get caught…" Snow said. Ironic that _Walter_ would be concerned with rules!

"Au contraire…" The Sheck said. He beckoned us closer to him. "We found a loophole. We can't take any weapons or things of enemy bodies, the rules are very clear about that. However, there's nothing in the UCMJ that says that we can't take something home that is lawfully acquired and cleared by the guys in Signal and Supply groups. Civilian stuff is off limits…unless the house is abandoned though. Now in a war zone, the word _lawful_ is a real nebulous term…"

"You guys would be _that_ devious…and it's almost disturbing." Corporal Cameron said, sitting next to us.

Upon hearing this, I was filled with a competitive fire. "Hey, I want in on this."

The Sheck laughed. "You'll be out before we get the checks."

"Come on, it could be fun to a three way comp." said Micho.

"Hey, hey…I want in too." Rico said. I looked at him with a crooked eye.

"You guys serious? Okay, how about me and you against Black and Alou here? We'll, establish the rules after the brief." The Sheck said.

I never thought the Sheck could have been a good officer. He was too close to us enlisted guys and he loved his job too much. He was everything Walter wasn't and had what Rico lacked. He was a tough Belkan, and his wife, Irene, was probably even tougher. Rumor had it that she did jail time for beating the crap out of five guys outside a bar…while holding her baby. He was the second oldest man in the company at 26. The oldest was the Captain, who was barely thirty.

"You're on." I said.

"You guys are going down." Rico said.

We all shook hands, and suddenly my Queue 30 started beeping. I started typing like I was on Yellow Jacket pills as I wanted to finish before the officers showed up.

_**Dicey: Hey! Can you talk? I have to tell you something.**_

_**I'm sorry. Can't talk right now, I'm in a briefing. Love you.**_

_**Dicey: Love you.**_

I put the Queue 30 away and set it to the "busy setting". Just as I did that, one of the senior NCOs yelled out, "Attention on deck!"

We all stood at attention almost in unison as Captain Morrison and Lieutenants Moute, Dickerson, Perez, Riba and Frost walked in. Dickerson, my team leader, was usually the first one to arrive and the last to leave. The Team Leaders took the end row seats while Moute moved to Morrison's left near the computer screens.

I liked Captain Morrison. I never really had any hatred against officers. Maybe it was because I'd always had excellent guys with silver and gold bars on their uniforms. Though, I mostly liked Morrison because he was the master of the passive aggressive insult. Morrison was tall and had the posture of a gargoyle. He was kind of young for a Captain. There were no stress lines on his face and his reddish hair was almost too red, each strand perfectly combed as if aliens from another world did his hair. He just had the look of a person who took entirely too much time caring about his appearance, even though that was obviously not the case.

"Good morning Marines. Who's the most hardcore company in the whole goddamn Corps?!" he shouted at us.

"Werewolves, sir!" we shouted back.

"What's our job?" asked the Captain, with a huge smile on his face.

"Kill!" We all grunted in unison. It was a usual tradition with Power Recon.

"Excellent. Take your seats," said the Captain moving toward the computer screen, "Okay, gentleman, I'm sure you're aware of the current circumstances in Yuktobania. Let's not waste any time. We're going over there in the next twenty four to thirty six hours depending upon when the powers that be say the word. Since things have been pushed up, we're going to have to do a quick study of the mission briefs you received after you completed your training…since I'm assuming only about three of you have actually looked at it."

Most of the company let out a chuckle. I didn't because I thought the only one who actually did _read_ the damn thing!

"The situation in Yuktobania is pretty grim. It's a lot worse than we thought." Captain Morrison said, pulling up a map of Yuktobania, the map was much different than the one I studied in high school about the 2010 war, "Let's start at the beginning. Most of you newer guys were in training when this started going on. Basically, the entire Central Highlands started drying up. Fish were dying, plants, trees and farm animals started dying out of the blue. The entire land between Jilachi Desert and Bastok Peninsula, the equivalent of our Great Plains, has been gutted by this bizarre drought. Then Soma showed up, under the leadership of one Irano Musharak."

A picture of an older, bald, bearded man came up. He looked like a vampire from one of those old silent movies. This was the true face of our enemy. I'd seen him the news and he looked completely different. He was less regal and devout. He looked evil and almost monstrous.

Frost then came up and delivered his brief. The icy Belkan officer always had that damned crooked smirk on his face. I didn't hate him, but he was the only officer I slightly disliked. Maybe it was because he and Sgt. Sheckenhousen were as different as spiders and rats. His last name was fitting. What else would you expect from a man from the S-2 department?

"Musharak is a basket case from the Jaair-Hazri Heights, just north of the Jilachi Desert. The Jaair and everything north of that has a much different culture than the rest of Yuktobania. They're a more withdrawn people, a more religious kind of people, and they treat their women like shit. Kind of like the Versuans but smarter and more aggressive." Frost said.

The Verusan born or blooded were full of confused and angry looks; Corporal Dorsey and obviously Micho were blue-faced. I could hear Micho scratching his teeth and see him piercing his fingernails into his palms. I knew from around the campfire that Frost had something against Versuans, but I couldn't prove it…until now.

"We got some intense people we're dealing with. They're organized, not ideally…but enough to give the Yuke Army all kinds of trouble. They're actually an amalgam of mercenaries, unpaid and dissatisfied Yuke defectors, deposed Versuan terrorists; the usual scumbag ilk."

Soon, a group of six different photos appeared on the same enlarged screen.

"We've identified several major targets with the help of the Loyalists. Musharak is believed to use six key people. They're part of something called "Codaka Muhuda", it loosely translates to _Dogmen_. Intelligence has prepared a series of dossiers on the Dogmen.

"The minor people are two ID'd military personnel. The_ Apache Madame_ and _Kid Vicious_…seen here in this photograph. Real names unknown."

"The_ Shark_, a former war criminal, real name: Yuri Bolavi. Then there's this psychopathic mess called the_ Crying Man_. Real name Asimov Cute…I'm not making that up, but he is believed to be a former member of the South Belkan Psych-Operations Division."

"The real trouble comes with these two men: The_ Duke_, a.k.a. Giuseppe Vicenza, a real piece of work from Yuktobanian organized crime. Wanted for seventeen counts of murder, five counts of rape, arms embargo violations, and the list goes on."

"Then there's the guy who makes Mr. Vicenza look sane. The number one guy in Musharak's unit: codename _St. Peter_, El Habib Hazar. This is the commander of the Dogmen. This guy actually believes he's Jesus Christ. But he's crazier than all these other people combined. There are stories about beheadings, torture, all kinds of crazy stuff. But these men are not in our crosshairs…_yet_."

My mouth dropped. I could only think this: _Why? _I remember when Dulcinea got in some trouble for mentioning the Dogmen in a chat. She wasn't too specific…but she made mention to what the Yukes thought of these people. Needless to say, they were, according to the Yuke refugees, probably the most vicious, inhuman, hardcore people in the history of modern warfare. _Why were we not going to hunt them?_ Then again…he did say _yet_.

"We're going over there to support the Loyalist Army until the balance of the Osean Army arrives. We're going in ahead of the rest of the Corps since we're already prepped for deployment. Originally, we were going with a beach landing at Bastok Peninsula. However, with the current situation Bethlehem Park is too far inland so we're going in by air drop. We'll be reinforced by the 1st Marine Division three days after we make landfall. Our objective is to hold the area of Bethlehem Park at all costs. We'll set up around the town of Royelle just outside Dresdene. Battalion Briefing is at 2000 hours. We TAC up at 2200 hours with deployment time on the need to know. You got any last business, get it done now. Any questions?" said Captain Morrison.

I winced. It was ironic I was going into the same place where my parents, the Wings of Sand Island, were almost vilified for the deaths of civilians they didn't even kill.

"Should we be concerned with anything nuclear, sir?" asked Sheckenhousen.

"The suits should be fine against radiation, but don't count on it because it was a small dirty bomb in a chemical factory. They're not going to drop anything on us. We'll have enough on our hands. Once we're done here, I want everyone to meet with their Team Leaders for additional information and reviewing the mission packets. Any other questions?"

"What specific kind of resistance should we expect, sir?" asked Sergeant Adams, the guy everyone called the _Iceman_.

"As of the moment, we're not sure. Soma is a mixed up group. As of now, we're under the assumption that the Soma is made up of former Yuke regulars. So we're sticking with the current battle plan covered in the mission briefs. Any other details will be covered during the Battalion briefing. Any more questions?" asked the Captain.

Silence.

"Dismissed. And good luck." Morrison concluded.

Everyone began to get up and leave the room in a crowded crawl for the doors. Just as I got up, I was stopped in my tracks by Lieutenant Dickerson who pushed his way through the crowd. He had the same sort of face that Sheckenhousen did, round and thick. He was much shorter than the Sheck or Rico, but he commanded the respect of everyone in Team 1.

"Black, hold up." He said.

I turned around after rolling my eyes. I didn't really want to speak to him face to face now. The last time I got chewed out. "Sir?"

"I need a volunteer and you're it." He said.

"Damn…what do you need, sir?" I said, trying to save face from my previous expression.

"I went over the Rosetta-Circum exams everyone in boot and Recon training on Team 1. You know…the language tests? You're the only one who got over a ninety percent. So you're going to be translating for us."

_Translating_, I thought. _Why me, though?_ There were plenty of guys who could speak Yuke in the company. Sure I'd spoken it since I was five when Sueltana was teaching me Yuke words and I took it in school but…

"Sir, Micho and Cameron speak Yuke pretty good too. Isn't it…you know, common?"

I could tell Dickerson was a bit put off by my excuse. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. "Because you're the only guy in the company who can speak the rural dialects and that's the people the Captain says we're mostly likely to meet."

"Okay sir, call me up and I'm the singing monkey." I said, a chuckle following.

Dickerson pointed his finger at me. "Don't laugh this off Private. You could save someone from getting shot that didn't need to be. Can I count on you?"

_Well_, I thought, _that's good_. That certainly got my attention.

"Yes sir. I'm your guy." I said.

"Good man. Now, we got to go over these mission briefs." He said with a hint of distain in his voice.

Many people, including the Lieutenants, hated doing mission briefs because everything had to be reviewed and memorized. Whoever wrote the briefs should have been pistol whipped. It was only rehashing the crap you heard in the briefing. _They_ did them in such nauseating detail they made you fall asleep; which was precisely what me, Micho and Pvt. Kell did on the previous mission brief and it got us into hot water with the officers. So we had to clean the entire battalion's barracks. It could have been worse. At least we didn't fall asleep on _fire watch_ during the same training exercise like Walt did. Yikes.

However, it was like getting a vaccine shot as a kid. Funny though, we hated reviewing mission briefs…but we didn't want to get shot. So we followed the briefs and we hoped they keep us alive. But there was some guy named Murphy and he had a certain law…

***

We were busy all day trying to get those last goodbyes in to friends and family, checking gear, and suiting up for the ready phase. We were going into the fire soon. But when we came outside, the Werewolf Company area was a circus. We were only an hour from the Battalion mission briefing and there were tents, exhibits and televisions everywhere. There were men and women in suits and dresses, loafers and high heels in places that were restricted to civilians. Corporate Osea was here and they were rolling out the red carpet for us. I shouldn't have been surprised. I should have known Corporate Osea would be here. When I told Kei, her response was…terse.

She knew this all too well.

My father was right about history. My mother told me the story about Micho's father, Cormorance, during the last war in Versua. He had stock in the Cylaron Corporation. They were doing charitable efforts for the troops in Versua. But my mother, whose intelligence knew no bounds, suspected it was all a sham to cover up their intentions to rob Versua's oil. To add insult to injury, they secretly bankrolled the election of President Mary Cohen.

My mother was right. The Cylaron shareholders became insanely rich years after the war was over. Micho's father became a player overnight. He quit the air force and bought securities, bonds and houses around the country. I didn't understand why my mother was so angry at Cylaron at fourteen years old. Versua was no better or worse when Cylaron was involved. Cylaron left Verusa and built plants in Estovakia.

Cylaron was here now and they weren't alone. Cylaron, Hephaestus, Simalor, QCC…it all came full circle.

I didn't see it for what it really was back then. As I walked around the hustle and bustle I finally understood. Pretty women in shoulder pads and high heels gave me massages and weird looking water bottles. The Ultimate Warrior Suit, made by Corporate Osea, was only the beginning. This _Corporate Military,_ as it was called by the media_,_ was the true face of the new war. One only needed to look at the new Holo-Phone Booths they had. The booth was a series of large circular stands. You stood on it, and your holographic image projected to the person you were calling. They had sent secretly Holo-Phone devices to 100 random soldiers' families in the Division. Micho and Cpl. Alphonso Adair won the right to use them. The Sheck and a few others had shelled out a thousand bucks for one. The tent was pretty big and several others were with us inside.

Micho was talking to his beautiful wife, Rachel. Rachel was half-Versuan living in Rouge Park, but lost her parents to a house fire when she was five. She lived with a pure Osean family in Akerson Hill. Micho met her when he was in high school, fending off a mugger in an alleyway in Rouge Park. Micho, in typical fashion, used his looks and slightly lied about his age to get a date with her. She didn't really care how old Micho was, a creepy thought in hindsight, and they got married a year ago.

_Lucky bastard_, I thought.

Micho reasoned, "She'd probably outlive me anyway."

"Hello, honey." He said.

Her long black hair was a bit distracting. Rachel's beauty gave Dulcinea a run for her money. But Micho's wife had a two faced personality…like all Verusans did. If you were married to her, she treated you like gold. If you were friendly, she was an angel. But you stepped even slightly out of line and she'd shut you down faster than one of my superior officers. I didn't want to admit it…but she really _could_ be a real bitch at times. But not to me and Micho...she treated _us_ like kids sometimes. But then again, Rachel was a keeper.

She wore some gown; a fitting outfit for Micho's knocked up woman. I just shook my head.

"I heard the news sweetie…it's so awful over there. Are you guys leaving soon?" she said.

"In the next two days."

Rachel had never learned pure Versusan because of her upbringing. So when she tried to speak it…it was often embarrassing. Micho didn't see it that way though.

"Umm…let me try this. Asum ami cana, morai shude ma." She then patted her bloated stomach, now up to the size of Mars, "Mon sherae a cana su airms, Micho." (I'm really going to miss you. He's going to miss you too.)

She then blew him a kiss and gave a thumbs up. She then put on her cutesy look."Was that okay?"

_Hell no_, I thought. _You could have done better with a robotic voice._

"Well done…you're getting better. I'm sorry it had to be this way." Micho added.

"Don't say that. You just stay safe over there." Rachel said. Her face twisted a little.

My pacing footsteps carried me onto the hologram. _Oh crap_, I thought.

"I love you…wait a minute, mister!" she said, cutting off her lovey-dovey tone in a heartbeat. Her meaner accent kicked in like a motorcycle engine. "Ran come here, we gotta talk."

"I know, don't remind me. We've already had this discussion. Jesus Christ." I said.

"Yes?" said Al Chambers, looking up from his chair. Chambers often hung around us and Sheck as he was on our Team. Chambers was a private like me and was cleaning his weapon. Some things about the Marine Corps changed over twenty years. It appeared cleaning one's weapon had not, no matter how advanced the gun was. However, Micho and I were not patient men.

"Shut up!" The two of us said in unison.

"Damn! I was just playing." Al said, before wiping down his X-88 Rifle.

"When he's due?" I resumed.

Rachel patted her stomach again. "One more month. How's Dulcinea doing? I hope she's okay."

"She's alive…that's all that matters. If she's leaving when I'm dropping in guns loaded, I'll be a happy man. Now my other sister…I have no idea."

"I hope you find her. My dad probably can help you find her. He's over there with the Belthlehem group too."

I heard the familiar footsteps of the Sheck behind us. He started clearing his throat. Apparently Irene needed some attention too. Then he stepped on to the pad. We almost got shoved off by the Belkan giant-man.

"Dang, I forgot. Okay, we've got to go…the Sheck's turning blue back here waiting for his Holo-Call."

"Is the bet still on?" Rachel asked him.

"You bet your sweet ass it's still on! You two are going to be buying me and Irene dinner when this is all said and done."

"Sarge, please. I think she got the message."

"Hey, don't forget I'm still in this now. You may be buying me and Dicey dinner when the curtain comes down." I said.

"Assuming she lives to see it." Walter said softly. But it was loud enough for me to hear.

It was like a bomb went off in my head. I was piercing fingernails into _my_ palms. I started to get up and repeat my pugilism on Walter's face, but the Sheck and Micho stopped me…and thank God they did. Sheck stepped off the holopad.

"Hey, hey! Not here, alright. Not here." Micho said, pulling me away.

"Walter, me and you. Me and you, right now." Sheck said, pointing his finger at Walter. Walter almost had to be drug off like a child. I was about to say something, but Rachel's image spoke for me. I forgot that Rachel could still hear the background noise.

"Was it that Walter guy? What an asshole. How do you put up with him?" she said while shaking her head in the image.

"We don't. He's just here like an unwelcome family member in your house." Micho said. He couldn't have been more right.

"Well, you guys take care. And Ran…don't you forget what I said." Rachel said, wagging her finger at me.

"See you." Micho said.

The image of Rachel's dark cherry lips kissed Micho before her image faded away into dark. Micho let out a slight laugh and he turned to me.

"What was she talking about?" he asked.

"Rachel called me up before I got to my parents' house and made me promise I'd get you back home alive."

"Figures. Can't she realize I can handle well enough alone?" Micho said. He followed it up with a scoff.

"Well, no wonder she's worried! You're almost twenty years old, your wife's carrying your kid and she's five years older than you! Did you really think that maybe she'd be a _little_ concerned about this…not to mention with a bunch of crazed religious freaks running all over Yuke-land?" I said.

"We knew that going on. You know my father always said."

The last thing I needed was more recurring advice from Cormorance Alou. "It's the life we've chosen…blah, blah, blah. Jesus. Well, you better not die…because I'm not facing that scene. And you better not get wounded either…or Rachel's going to kick my ass after she has that kid."

"Now that I'd pay to see." Chambers said.

"Shut up, Al." Micho said more forcefully this time.

"Jeez, what's your malfunction today?" Al said, still trying to clean his weapon.

"I'm going to get some air." I said.

I stepped outside the booth and walked about a hundred yards away from the circus. I came to the fence near the parking lot, a space with a good view of the Ceres Ocean. My Queue started beeping again. It was Dulcinea and my eyes lit up.

_**How are you, baby?**_

_**Dicey: Just fine. I could be better. It's not easy when people are dying all around you. But I guess you're used to it.**_

_**I haven't had anyone die around me.**_

_**Dicey: I just wish I knew what was killing everything over here. Other than the Soma.**_

_**Tell me you're leaving Yuktobania. Please tell me you're leaving on the first plane out of there.**_

There was a very long pause before she typed back. The back of my mind was telling me what I didn't want to hear. In my heart, I honestly believed Dulcinea was simply taking a long time to type.

_**Dicey: Brandon, I'm staying. I can't leave these people. I'm sorry if I've worried you. I guess I've given you a ton more reasons to stay up late. Now that you're people are coming…maybe I can have some hope for the first time in months.**_

_**I've given you hope…haven't I? Listen, you don't know what you're dealing with. There are some really insane people over there.**_

_**Dicey: You don't think I know that?! What else do you think these people have to do other than talk about the Soma. If it makes you feel better, I still want to be with you. But, I can't leave yet. I'd never forgive myself.**_

_**I'm sorry for doubting you..**_

_**Dicey: Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll only leave if things become hopeless…but you've given me enough to go on. Thank you and I won't let you or these people down. You just keep yourself alive too.**_

_**I got to go. Love you.**_

_**Dicey: Love you too.**_

I exited the chat and felt fear for the second time in the past few days. Funny she should mention hope, and she'd taken it from me in the span of a few minutes. It was enough time to put several clips of ammo downrange or run a mile or so. It was enough time to put on the Ultimate Warrior Suit. I'd have to do that anyway, but I'd have to give up hope in the process. The sobering reality set in as I realized many of the people in my life were in grave danger.

My father. My buddies and their wives, their kids and their parents.

Tasha. My mirror image.

Dulcinea. My balancing act.

My mother. My endless advisor.

I had to put on the suit to protect them. But I could lose them anyway, even with this advanced technology. I thought about the Dogmen. Were they really as psychotic as Morrison and Dulcinea had said? Or were they simply psychological warriors? The only difference would be the PWS. It was something the Dogmen didn't have.

I remembered the first thing I saw when I put on the PWS…the label on the display inside the helmet's transparent computer screen: the logo of the Hephaestus Corporation.

I was depending on this corporation to protect the people who cared about me…and the people watching my back. I should have been relieved. Dulcinea's message filled me with doubt though. The day was fading away and I simply stared at the few stars above. I kept focusing my magnified eyes on those distant heavens and I realized something. Some stars were not even stars at all. Some died long ago but they still shined until the point the light stopped traveling toward us.

_Could that be my parents...my sister? Doomed, but still physically there until they're gone? Or me_, I thought.

I knew there was only one way to know and the answer lied in the wastelands of Yuktobania.

Next Chapter: The Hephaestus Project


	3. The Hephaestus Project

Chapter 3: The Hephaestus Project

"_War is business and business is war. War and money are the essential parts of society. He who has it and uses it wisely wins." – Damien Cane, CEO of the Hephaestus Corporation_

One of our infantry fighting vehicles passed the road behind me and I recognized some of the guys from Raptor Company. They were holding their arms up and whooping in complete joy. I stopped thinking about Dulcinea for a moment…and raised my arms in support.

"Get some!" I yelled at them.

"Get some, yeah!" they responded.

For all my worry and sadness…I wasn't alone. I'd have Power Recon behind me and I didn't want to let them down. We'd been through too much.

I remembered the history lessons about the Project in Recon Training. There were four phases: Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue. Red was the tough part, the indoctrination and Hell Week. Fifty percent of the initiates were dropped in the two weeks with the extreme fitness tests and psychological trials. Yellow Phase was the extensive classroom work mixed in with intense physical training sessions that included running several miles in full gear. Green was operations training where we learned how to plan operations, perform simple Reconnaissance missions and learn the basic functions of the LARAs. Blue phase was putting it all together in training missions, live fire exercises, Airborne and Naval Assault training. Thankfully, we didn't have to the SERE training. We did not have to eat bugs and be trained in withstanding torture. Getting into Power Recon was an accomplishment enough.

Of course, we were nothing without the H Project.

They called it the Hephaestus Project but not because of the corporation that made the Ultimate Warrior suit. In fact, the history of the UWS began nineteen years ago. Or at least, that's what the textbook said; that huge bound of papers we had to carry around for almost two months of Yellow Phase.

It started with two friends, a man and a woman, in Versua in 2017. They were officers in a military police company and they were in their last years of active duty. While in the rear, an IED attack destroyed the building they were in. They barely survived and wound up in the hospital in a place in Yuktobania. It was determined that their body armor was insufficient to withstand a new type of explosive the Versuan hardliners were using with a vengeance. Unable to continue military duty, the pair devoted themselves to creating the best body armor in the world. Their travels only led them just a few miles, when a Versuan child told them about a rare mineral that was flexible and could withstand bullets. The Versuans made several advanced airplane frames out of them. In a year, they created a suit out of this material. The material had no official name, but the indigenous population called it the Abla Matra, the metal of life. The ancient tribes of Verusa had known about it for years, but never told anyone in the outside world about what became known as the Hepaa-262, the latest mineral added to the periodic table.

They won over a struggling group who did business with mercenary companies. They were selected to be executives of the Blue Iron group.

The executives' names were Viola Shelley and Damien Cane.

They tested the suit and it passed with flying colors. Soon, every mercenary group wanted what became known as the Silver Guard, because of the mineral's color. Then a mad dash to find more of this mysterious mineral was on. Over the years Osea took notice, and tested the suit themselves. Soon, the DOD purchased the rights to the Silver Guard and distributed it to their troops in a limited fashion. The two friends became the heads of the DOD's Advisory Committee on Troop Administration (ACTA) at the will of the President at the time, John Jameson, who once had the pair of friends under his command in the Army.

Three years later, the gentleman of the pair was hired to be the CEO of a new company. This new business was a subsidiary of Cylaron that parted ways with the oil giant to avoid anti-trust violations. It was the entire weapons research and development division…

The business became known as the Hephaestus Corporation.

Later, they absorbed the struggling Mashimi Corporation, who worked with a new technology called nano-machines. The applied the concept to their suit, and with backing in a joint venture with the QCC, in five years they'd created the Ultimate Warrior Suit. The vision was to create an environment for the soldier with the most survivability and most control over a battlefield. Control meant information the enemy didn't have and the ability to apply that information. A bill was created in the Republican dominated Senate known as the Hephaestus Act.

But the legislation was struck down in the overwhelmingly Democratic House of Representatives…citing lack of economic feasibly. There was no problem with that…all it took was a change in administration after President Jameson was impeached for obstruction of justice and some heinous sex crimes.

That led to the fate of the female of the pair…who promptly ran for president and won in a landslide. She came promising an improvement in the lifestyle of military personnel and their families. As such, 98 percent of the Osean military voted for this woman. She was fiercely conservative and believed in making Osea an active presence in world peace. Of course, in this woman's terms, _world peace_ meant being ahead of the curve in killing power. That meant having the most amounts of talented people in the military there because of _want_ and not _need_. Standards were toughened for the service academies. Airplanes were overhauled and the entire military changed its image in one year. The Hephaestus Act was passed three weeks after this woman took office.

Soon, the DOD began experimenting with the Ultimate Warrior Suit in a limited fashion. They used elements of the First Marine Division and the suits passed the initial tests. The Force Recon Division was disbanded and a new division was put into its place: Power Recon. Candidates were handpicked from all over the Corps, even men in boot camp.

Some people figured that Shelley's election was a serious conflict of interest as she was connected to the Hephaestus Corporation. It was, in many eyes, a repeat of the Mary Cohen-Cylaron controversy of 2014. Most soldiers didn't care. Enlistment numbers went up in the first year.

I was one of them.

Here was the basis of the UWS system.

The way it worked was that instead of a regular Marine uniform, an armor suit was worn over the skin that was somewhat heavier than the original suit. The difference wasn't much. The suit was made out of plates of the Hepaa-262 weaved into a strange mix of titanium Kevlar. The Hepaa-262 actually made the suit lighter by the chemical bond. The newer black-colored alloy made us look pretty intimidating.

Knives did jack to us. It could also completely stop most bullets up to a 7.62mm caliber. Explosions? They were a concern, but the nano-machines were used to slow down the damage from shrapnel. Chemical weapons? No problem either. We had a contained helmet with a Poly-Glass shield that could stop enough, but not as much as the armor. Nanomachines on the shield glass and the suit itself recycled and purified air. Radiation? It could resist light radiation, but nothing heavy. We didn't expect to walk into the Belkan radiation zone with our Recon suits and come out alive. And if you got injured…no worries at all! The Regen Matrix, a set of nano-machine injectors, could dull the pain and keep you alive if something serious happened. And the suit's weight was manageable with the rucksacks we carried.

There was the helmet itself. The retractable glass shield also had a digital IFF system that displayed the name and rank of another Recon soldier, possible threats, and confirmed threats with the use of different colors. The back of the helmet had a GPS system and the screen also had targeting support for our guns: the X-88 Carbine Rifle.

The X-88 was an altered version of the M-4 with a heavier stock. The weapon had the genius of a cheesy sci-fi movie. But it worked. It was made to function in any environment. There were two forms: open bolt for automatic fire support and closed bolt for semi-auto and precision fire. There was no more need for belt fed weapons. The fifty caliber guns and SAWs (squad automatic weapons) were phased out of Power Recon. The fifty was replaced by the U-99 Harpoon, a longer, heavier version of the X-88 that was often mounted on the LARA (Light Armor Recon-Assault) vehicles, the newest troop transport vehicles. That along with the Halberd-15, a weapon that replaced the AT-100 rocket launcher.

The LARAs were awesome. They had a _similarity_ to the Stryker design, but a LARA was a Styrker on steroids with its X-88 modules for additional fire support, the "bubble gun" which was a U-99 encased in an armored…"bubble", and VV-3 Grenade launchers (which replaced the Mark-19s).

Indeed, the Soma didn't want to screw with us. We were the best…and we knew it.

I wanted to feel like my father did twenty seven years ago. My father led the group known as the Razgriz and they were the products of fear and joy from those who followed them. For a fleeting moment, I felt that way as I stood in full Recon armor. I felt I could reach up and touch the stars without being incinerated. But as I walked around the company area, it began to fade…especially when I ran into one of my comrades.

***

His name was Corporal Alphonso Adair. The Sapin-born man sat on the bench between our Werewolf are and Vampire Company's building. His eyes poured over some religious book or whatever the hell it was. I thought my parents would have liked him. I thought I would have liked my sister to date him. She would have loved those midnight colored eyes he had and beneath the charcoal skin lied something that burned continuously in him.

Alphonso was the stark difference in all this craziness. The corporate screens and advertising all over company area didn't affect him at all. He was just different from all of us. He had grass colored eyes and they were always focused on something important.

I almost completely passed him on the way back to the circus tents. He didn't look up at me at first. He was adjusting the book light he had on his knee. It was a good thing he had it…otherwise I'd think he was a retard for reading in the dark. He had most of his Recon Gear on, but the helmet was not even connected.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"I'm getting a dose of the Word before we leave this place." He said. He had a rather melodious voice. Some questioned his…orientation when he came to Recon. Then again, every Marine's manhood was called into question at some point.

"What good is a Bible going to get you in a war zone?" I said.

His glassy eyes started up at me then looked down again. "I do it because it's important to know that we're not fighting any ordinary enemy."

I arched an eyebrow. "What's so different? I mean, the base of the group is a group of devout religious people. We don't know much else other than they're repeating the same pattern as every other psycho group that's been in that country."

He let out a hearty laugh. "That's the problem. There is nothing worse than going over to fight a war against an enemy we don't understand."

"What's there to understand? We have the briefs on them. I mean, intelligence did its job. The suit will protect us. We've got everything we need." I said, a bit overly confident.

Alphonso laughed once again. "No, we don't. The officers don't seem to care about the ramblings of a mere Corporal…but I know this war is not going to be won with just our Ultimate Warrior gear."

"Of course not. We've got air power, sea power…we're just the tip of the spear." I said. I could tell that Alfonso knew I was reaching.

His laugh was getting on my nerves at this point. "The irony of it all that I'm reading the Word, and we're heading into a godless country to face a god-fearing enemy. You know what all those Dogmen have in common?"

"What?"

"They were all born in the same place. The Hazri Highlands."

I knew enough about the Hazri Highlands. I knew that Jaair was in that area, and it was bypassed by the Osean troops during the war in 2010. It was a mountainous region chock full of natural resources like uranium, methane gas, coal and much more. If I remembered right, the first outright coup against the Loyalist party occurred years before my parents went to war in Versua. One place it started was, not surprisingly, in the Hazri Highlands.

"What's so special about the Hazri Highlands?" I asked, wanting to pry more out of him.

"I don't know everything…but I know it's a religious shrine to the people of the Hazri."

"…and it's got a lot of ore deposits too." I said. However, Alphonso continued as if he never heard me.

"The Word talks about the Hazri at one point. The Hazri were actually the true rulers of Yuktobania long ago. They were a barbarian tribe. Not much is known about them but sometime in the year 700 A.D., they were defeated by the Tatars tribe, the ones that eventually became the sovereigns of Yuktobania. But the Tatars lost so many men that they eventually made a truce with Hazri. They allowed the Hazri to keep their Northern Lands, just outside the Jilachi Desert and the entire north shore for about 500 miles. Over time, the Hazri were added to the republic, but the Hazri kept their culture."

I didn't need the history lesson. None of that crap mattered. Who cared that some barbarian tribe had control of this country long ago. I was more concerned with the present.

"Then the country went into deep recession over old war debts, the Soma rise and start battling the loyalists, then the famine hits, Soma gains momentum, blah, blah, blah, we know." I said.

For whatever reason, Alphonso went back to his habit of reading things from his church book. He did it all the time, but never at such a sudden moment. "Praise the Lord and his hands are the shield around my body and his eyes the sword."

"That makes no sense at all."

Alphonso closed his book. "It makes sense to those who believe. My mother used to read it to me when I was a child. It made sense then."

"That's because you're a loon." I heard a familiar voice say.

Rico Lazarus was walking up the sidewalk and pointing at Alphonso. The other Corporal didn't respond though. I could tell that Rico's appearance made the hairs on his back stand up. Of course, I didn't need to guess why. The new addition filled in the rest.

"Please," said Rico, "Al, look…you're insane. I know for a fact your mother works for the Hepheat…whatever Corporation. Could that be more ironic? Guy gets religion from his parents, believes in good will for mankind and his mother works for a company that makes machines specifically for _killing_. Your mom works in the Research Department for a _goddamn weapons company_! So don't come at me with that bullshit."

I wished Tasha had heard him say that. She would have lit into him as far as I knew. Well, it wasn't much…after all, their relationship was breaking news to me. It turned out they had been going out for a few weeks…and not once did they ever tell me. In the past, I knew everything about Tasha's life and she knew everything about mine. But something about Rico was off. He didn't usually act this way. Something must have had happened to him in the past two days for him to be so crass and sharp tongued. Usually, that was Walt and Eric's disposition. Not Rico. At first, I thought I was being petty…but there was something off about this.

Alphonso had several reasons to be pissed off at Rico's comment. First, he hated it when people called him Al. He was the kind of guy who never used people's nicknames. Second, Alphonso's mother was a computer programmer. She only worked on software, she wasn't designing weapons. And finally, Rico had stepped all over Alphonso's beliefs. That was just something you _didn't_ do. It was seriously bad taste.

But typical Alphonso, he didn't show any resentment. He closed his book and smiled at Rico before he put his hand on his shoulder.

"I wasn't coming at you with anything." He said. "I was merely speaking to our friend here."

He kept his hand on Rico's shoulder. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, brother."

"Oh give me a break. What is with you?" Rico said. He knocked Alphonso's hand off his shoulder.

The Corporal simply shook his head and turned away from the Rocket Man. "I'm not worried at all. My soul is clean."

Rico pointed at his chest. "Should I tell your girlfriend that? I'm sure she's dying to hear that. And you're soul ain't going to be clean long. When you shoot that weapon and put a slug in some Yuke terrorist…you're going to be excited."

"Fiancé." Alphonso said strongly, referencing Kate, the girl who always mailed us tiny gift baskets on the weekends. I noticed the way Rico said girlfriend, as if he held distain for poor Kate. I was tremendously disappointed. I expected that out of Walter…not Rico. I imagine Tasha wouldn't be too pleased to hear that. Then again, he probably treated my sister like she was encased in ivory. I guess it balanced out; but it went against everything I was taught by my father.

"Whatever." Rico said.

"And by the way…I'm not his friend." Rico said to Alphonso as he walked away. He didn't even look at either of us.

It was a direct jab at me. _I'm not his friend_…_what the hell was that_, I thought. I never was anyway. I didn't hang out with Rico. Not many of us did. Rico wasn't in our Team before a few weeks ago. He replaced Corporal Damlingson, who was discharged because he had a rare form of epilepsy. But we knew him because he was very well respected by the other NCOs and regular enlisted guys. The separation was probably why I didn't find out about Rico and Tasha sooner.

There was a weird thing about Werewolf Company. You could tell what kind of home life a Marine had by what he did when he was on and off duty. It was no surprise that the ones with horrible upbringings had some…questionable judgment. That is, people like Walter Snow, Eric "The Red" Martin, and Sgt. Walsh. Well, most of their problems were just of their own making. There were just some bad human beings in Power Recon. It appeared that President Shelley's reforms did not extend to enlisted men. It was no shock that these guys were always in trouble.

Then there were men like Alphonso, Tristan, Cameron, Dickerson, Moute, the Sheck, Micho…people with good, close relationships with their families. It was also no shock that most of these people were foreigners from places with strong family cultures. Micho was an exception since Rouge Park-born Versuans were much closer knit than natives of their motherland. It was also no surprise these men were the backbone of our company.

Rico was an exception to the latter. Rico had a reputation for being a bit of a narcissist. It was an odd trait for a soldier to have. Some considered him to be two faced; I didn't need much more of a hint. Alphonso looked a bit disgusted, and he was trying to hide it well. I could tell though. He decided to go back to the circus, probably to talk to Kate one more time. Micho was prowling around the area, but I couldn't see him. I had my mother's diary with me, and I decided to simply read some of it. We only had the battalion briefing ahead and it was good to get this in before we waltzed into Yuktobania. I didn't even start at the front page; I was so anxious to read it, I just opened it and read one of my mom's entries. What was Yuktobania like back then? What was Kei Nagase like back then? Why did they call her _Edge_?

Of course, to the world, everyone knew her as Lilly Black. If only they knew that the Demons of Razgriz, or rather remnants, walked among them…

It was enough to make me smile.

_October 28, 2010 - There's only two days before we invade Yuktobania, and each day adds more mystery than anxiety. I wonder what actually is over there. Winter is only a few months away and the weather is absolute hell in the winter, as if the Devil's ninth level was transported to half the country. And yet, the Central Highlands remain the same year around, the desert…it makes no sense. Maybe the climate is indicative of the war we're in. I wonder what their people are like. Are they all on board this machine of war or are they as confused as me? The brass has not mentioned one thing about these people. The only thing that matters is where we're going. There is something wrong about that. No one's taking this into account. Everyone else outside the squadron is filled with burning rage. But it is not hatred that drives Blaze. There is a different kind of fire burning inside of him. I think I know what it is. Knowing him, it's a perpetually slow coal burn. He always keeps a little of the flame inside of him. That's why he so good. That's why I like him so much. That's why I…_

She stopped. I knew what she really wanted to say and filled in the rest. Hell, if she didn't think what I knew from her implication, I wouldn't be here. Hell, Catherine wouldn't have existed. Tasha or Astrid wouldn't have been alive either. It was funny how life and fate was quick and fickle like the waving flame of a candle. I flipped over a few pages. I knew most of what happened back then…but my mother's thoughts were incredibly interesting.

_November 7, 2010 – We still can't prove this enigmatic 8492nd Squadron was responsible for what happened in Dresdene. We had the radio transcripts, we had the manifests proving we weren't carrying bombs…and still **they** acted as if we purposely killed a dozen people on a college in a country where we shouldn't even have been in the first goddamn place! It's unbelievable to me. Irrelevant of that, it's out of our hands now. And what the hell does Perrault mean by prove our innocence? Really? How does that work? Oh, I see…we prove we didn't kill innocent people by killing more of the Yukes' soldiers. The word **irony** does not even apply to this stupidity. Today, we blew up a large Yuke military installation buried under the Duga Jungle just west of the region everyone thinks we terrorized. May God have mercy on whoever was in there. What is it with Yuktobania? I've never seen so varied a landscape in my life. However, there was one thing of intrigue I remembered from today's flight. Blaze and Chopper decided to buzz the treetops of the Baston Highlands just south of Dresdene. Before I yelled at them, Blaze noted that it was the most beautiful forest he'd ever seen. Strangely, the area was bypassed by the ground forces. Chopper made a snide comment about doubting Blaze's masculinity for calling something **beautiful**. So we all flew the same path home, as I couldn't get the thoughts of Duga out of my head. We all dove low and took a look at the woods. And you know what…Blaze was right. It was like walking into a children's fairytale land. The Yukes called it the Emerald Forest. It was the only place I felt welcome. As for everywhere else, we were treated like burglars breaking into the enemy's home…and they were not quite ready for us. Something tells me that's about to change…_

I had a vague idea about this 8492, but that didn't matter. I knew what happened that day. The history books told most of the story. The important thing was the Duga-Royelle-Dresdene-Baston regions. As far as I knew from the mission briefs, Duga was a dead zone. However, there was nothing about the Baston Heights. The drop zone was in and around Royelle, a place that had seen its share of wars. It was the only place in the Baston region that was forcefully taken by the Osean troops twenty seven years ago.

It was this place where my Dulcinea lived and worked. It would be this place where we were headed. Power Recon was coming to rescue and I wished I could tell her that everything was going to be okay. I wasn't sure if it was false bravado at the time, but it didn't matter. I didn't need any extra motivation.

Yuktobania had changed dramatically since my parent's time there, though. And yet, it would be the same feeling. We were going into a hostile place and everything could be a threat. Our leaders made that perfectly clear.

Then, I just looked at my Queue. There was nothing from Dulcinea. I almost felt like crying for some reason. Waiting was never a problem, but not knowing was even worse. But I could control the situation with my family. I closed the book and jumped up from the bench, running ten steps at a time to the phone in our company headquarters. Inside the pale halls, the phones were oddly empty. This was suspect. Usually, there would a mad dash for the phones to call loved ones. I wasn't going to complain. I couldn't contact my girlfriend, but I _had_ to speak to my family before anything else. No Queue 30 this time...my family required a personal touch.

_Phase One: Call Tasha._

I knew that this time of day, Tasha was usually in a late meeting if it was a training scenario. However given the situation of the present, her Transportation Company was probably in the _imminent deployment-mode. _I knew the number to her quarters by heart and the COQ usually answered it. Sgt. Davidson recognized my voice and was glad to tell me they'd long finished with their evening meeting.

"Hey, Brandon." She said.

"Hello, Tasha. How are you?"

"How's Rico?" She said.

_What the hell was going on_, I thought. One thing I had to remember was that I hadn't seen Tasha in some time. In the last weeks of Recon training, we were forbidden to contact anyone from the outside world. When I finally did see her, she never brought up Rico. I decided to let it slide off my back for now. I had a mission to get ready for.

Or so I thought. "_I'm_ fine," I said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. What was I thinking? Rico's just…strange about things when it involves you." She said.

"Wha…come again?"

"I don't know. I think he doesn't like you for some reason."

_What?!_

I paused. Why didn't he like me? I wasn't perfect and yes, I did do a dumb thing here and there…but not enough to earn distain. My father taught me to respect and treat well the people who aren't required to be treated well. I thought I'd done a good job at it (Walt notwithstanding). What was it? I knew he was a bit vain with his oil sheen covered hair, a moot point since we all had military haircuts. However, I had more problems to worry about than Rico.

"Well, that's a shocker." I finally said.

"I ask him about it and he'd always defer the question. I don't know. I have no idea what he could be jealous of. I mean, you're my brother and everything."

"I don't want to talk about him anymore."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I've got too many goodbyes to say and half of them go to you."

"I've said enough for myself." I said.

"I never thought I'd be easy but…I just…I just wish none of this happened. I wish I could go back in time and change everything." Tasha said.

I laughed, "Well, I'm not sure how much quantum physics is knocking around in that noggin of yours…but you'd get to work."

Tasha laughed in turn. "You're such a smartass."

_Wow, thank you Captain Obvious_, I thought. I said, "You know it was funny."

"I guess. Look, I can't talk much longer. We're already on a tight schedule as is. Our company's already getting ready. What I want to know is…what the hell took them so long to go over Yuktobania?"

I became serious for a moment. "I stopped asking myself that question hours ago. I suggest you do the same."

"How can I? This situation has been beaten into my head like a tribal drum in the jungle."

"You always were smarter than me." I said. This was absolute fact.

"Who's really dumber, you or the girl who followed you?" Tasha said, her voice drained, "Well, I guess I'll see you over there then."

"I have to call mom and dad before I go. See you later."

"Love you…and good luck. Don't you die on me, damn it." My sister said. Like I needed that speech again…

"That's the least of my worries." I said. My throat was dry when I said that. During the long pause, I wasn't sure if Tasha would understand it. I couldn't even hear the sound of her breathing. It was like being inside a snow globe in a quiet room.

"If I didn't know you…I'd think you were crazy." She said after the painfully long wait.

"I'm not crazy. I'm just nuts about other people." I said. I was amazed with my quick comeback.

As Tasha said her final goodbye, I could only think about Dulcinea and Sueltana. I knew that Dulcinea was in a safe place…but that was tentative. I had a little faith left.

Sueltana was an entirely different story. There were long stretches in the past where we wouldn't hear from her. The reason was that she always on the road, traveling around the country getting news stories. She wrote for Cinigrad Star, the second most popular newspaper in Yuktobania. I remember the first time I met her daughter Lucy, or "Luna" as Tasha so _eloquently_ put it. My father said Sueltana reminded him of Catherine, the sister I never got to meet. Her senseless death, along with hundreds of others, at the hands of a Verusan superweapon was the reason my parents went to war.

However, perhaps if Catherine hadn't died…Tasha and I may not have been born at all.

If William Snow hadn't died, maybe Walter would have turned into a better man that the misogynist, criminal asshole he'd become.

If Hans Grimm had survived the war and not been ironically killed by the same weapon that drew my parents into the war, his fiancé wouldn't have committed suicide and they'd be living happily ever after.

What if Cormorance Alou had died? Would Micho have been the same man without his dad? Maybe his sister, Leera, would have lived…she wouldn't been on that road coming home to visit her father the day she was T-boned by a drunk driver.

What if Lillian Izzo had died? There'd be no popular military history writer for the Verusan war. There'd be no one to write bizarre, but insightful social commentary for the _Qured Post Gazette_.

What if Sasha Masson had died in Versua? There'd probably be no Queue Communications Corporation without her because, according to the media, helped save the QCC with her brilliant marketing campaign.

What if Viola Shelley and Damien Cane had been killed in the Versuan war? There'd be no Shelley Administration…there'd be no Ultimate Warrior Suit! No Hephaestus Corporation either…

Many paths of history led back to that war, and so many things had happened because of it. There were an infinite amount of spider webs and mazes created because of a single action months before I was even born. As I stood there dialing my parents' house phone, I wondered if I was merely another cog in the wheel of time and space.

_Phase Two: Call Mom and Dad._

With a quick dial, the tone rang three times before anyone picked up. I prayed to God it wasn't Astrid who had the most annoying phone voice.

"Hello?" my mother's flowery voice said.

"Mom, it's me…Brandon."

A sigh of relief came through the ear. Oh thank god, I'd thought you'd already left."

"Not for a few hours anyway. Is Dad there?"

"Oh, your father? He had to take Astrid to the doctor. She got violently ill when we went out for dinner. We're never ordering from that place again. I just got back from work myself. I was going to go visit them, but he said not to bother. He's already bringing her home."

"I guess we don't need another tragedy." I said. My voice was low.

"You guess…" my mother said with her tone sharp. Funny how she always wondered why I was so acerbic. "I was always right about you."

What was she talking about? I wasn't being sarcastic. "I wasn't trying to be smart here, ma!" I said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just unexpected. Everything is like a tsunami wave and I can't stay on my feet."

She acted like everything was a novel passage. "Well, I did get my sword tongue from you. Too bad my superiors won't buy it."

My mother laughed. "I suppose that _is_ true."

"I just wanted to say that I didn't want you to worry."

My mother was rightfully grim. "I _am_ worried. That's my job whether you're nine or nineteen or thirty nine. It'll always be my job and I never once thought about doing anything otherwise. Also, I have to believe and know. I know you'll make it home alive and I _believe_ in you and what you guys are doing."

I breathed in relief. "Thank you. It's so good to know everyone around here is behind me too."

My mother paused, unsure of what I meant. "To what end? Your friends?"

"No, I mean all these companies around. You know, the H Corp, Cylaron, all these places."

"I'm sure they _really_ support you…just like everyone else." My mother said. Her voice was flame-tongued.

"They're all in our company area though. It's annoying, but I'm not turning down free stuff before we go into combat. They've got Holo-Phones, mom! I talked to Micho's wife on it. Totally free! I got this nice little water…bottle…thingamajig from this chick from Cylaron. People shaking my hand like I'm a hero…" I said.

I knew then I was getting carried away when my ma started breathing heavily through her teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me." My mother said. Of course, that was the gist of it. I also heard a muted expletive or two, apparently when she held the phone away from her.

_Oh…shit_, I thought. I should have known better than to bring up this sore point _again_.

"Look, we've been through this before." I quickly countered.

"I just…I should have seen this coming." My mother said. She sounded out of breath. Then she followed with a totally different pitch. I didn't see it coming. "Don't you understand Brandon?! This is not the right way to do things!"

"Mom, calm down. These are the people who built our weapons and gave us our technology. They're trying to save our lives." I said.

"I know. But don't think they're just trying to save_ your lives_. I know these people. Greed is good to them."

"God…I've think you've taken this Osean dream thing a little too far." I said.

"What does that mean? Look, they're trying to make money, yes. They're trying to make war where we can dominate it and not repeat the mistakes of the 2010 war, yes. But there is something wrong with this Corporate War, whatever they're calling it. Business and war go together like puzzle pieces, but there is always a price to pay for it. You're father was right…we do repeat the same mistakes over and over again."

"It's not perfect. We're just trying to win this damn thing and go home alive. I'm trying to keep you guys alive, you and Dulcinea and everyone else!" I said.

I was desperate to get off the subject but I couldn't make it go away.

"Sure this technology is helping, but I just hope it doesn't make the soldiers caricatures of themselves." she said.

"Look, I don't care about what happened in the past. I'm thinking about now. You have to understand that, mom. I'm a few hours away from possibly shooting at people. Do you understand that? All business is dirty. I'd rather be on the winning side though."

"I didn't mean to upset you. It just pisses me off thinking about it and I have nowhere to vent. Just remember what I told you." my mother said slowly.

"Of course, but I'll be damned if you're telling me _I told you so_." I said with a smirk.

My mother wasn't laughing. In fact, I heard something like a whimper. Then I really heard her. I hear literally hear the saline drop from her eyes. She was crying. "If it happens, it'd be the last thing I'd want to say that day."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I stammered out.

"Don't be. Just, remember everything your father taught you. Did you read the diary?" said my mother, her tears not fully gone.

"Just one or two pages; it's interesting about that forest though. I'm not too sure if it's still standing. I can't get into contact with Dulcinea."

My mother's voice was still pained. "Baston? God…it's been a long twenty seven years. I remember going over there and seeing it with Sueltana when you and Tasha were barely a year old. God help those people over there if it's gone."

"I just hope Sueltana's still alive." I tacked on as an afterthought.

"I couldn't bear it for her or her child to be alone…especially in this world. I hope she's alright but…every day I lose hope. If not, then I hope your love survives." My mother said, tacking on _Dulcinea_ as an afterthought. At least she cared...

"I've got to go. I've got another briefing tonight then…we're leaving on a jet plane and dropping into a war." I said.

"I love you, Brandon. Be careful, know your steps…and remember _who_ and _why_ you are." She said.

"Ran! Ran!" I heard someone say. Before I could focus my ears on the source, a distressed Private Cameron Craft came running up to me in full UW gear.

"Hold on…what?!" I said, holding the phone to my shoulder.

Just as I said that, alarms began to blare…and I knew exactly what that meant.

"Dude, we gotta go! The briefing's been canceled and we gotta get on the C-800s NOW! The Soma are driving for Dresdene! We gotta move now!" Cameron shouted at me.

My heart didn't freeze, it became a blazing orange and red. The C-800s were the upgrade from the C-130s of old. They were fully jet-powered cargo planes powered by some…plasma-fusion engines or something. The funny thing was that they were codenamed, "Jane". What was the thought process on that one? But that wasn't important. My mother was on the other line…and I had to get rid of her so I could go to war faster than I thought I would. It was amazing how fast everything had become.

"Mom…I have to leave!" I said, the adrenaline making my breath short.

"Good luck." She said.

I just hung up the phone. It was a cold way to do things but I had no choice. When the alarms sounded, you dropped everything you were doing and get on your post. It was unusual for military doctrine to respond so quickly to a threat. However, that was the job of Power Recon. Over the years, Force Recon became Power Recon and our job went from going to behind enemy lines to being the spear attack of the Marine Corps. We had to be anywhere in the world in eighteen hours flat...or less. This new technology certainly helped that.

The Hephaestus Corporation had done more for our military than any other company. My mother was always overreacting. Now, none of it mattered outside of the suit itself. The suit was the weapon I'd take to Yuktobania and the only thing that mattered was doing my job and getting back alive. If everything else I hoped for fell into place, then I'd be the happiest man in the world. However, I just wanted to see Dulcinea again. It was the only thing I could realistically expect anymore.

The chaos of the night overwhelmed us. Everything was like a collapse of raging water from a destroyed dam. The Corporate Fair collapsed as we all tried to find our companies and get ready for a war we weren't prepared for in the first place. There was no time to think, no time to say any more goodbyes. It was all or nothing now. It was Yuktobania or bust. But there was a bit of anxiety in me. Apart from Dulcinea and Sueltana and her family's fates…there were two other mysteries that were in my head. I wanted to know what role my sister would play in this grand drama. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to Tasha. Even with the unusual feelings I had about Rico, I wouldn't want him to endure the pain of losing someone he cared about; at least, someone I thought he cared about. I wanted to see this place my parents called a beautiful place, but reality set in as we moved for the marshalling area and started strapping on our parachutes.

Something told me that Kei Nagase's childhood fairytale land would be something out of my nightmares.

Next Chapter: The Wastelands of the Baston Forest


	4. The Wastelands of Baston Forest

Chapter 4: The Wastelands of Baston Forest

"_The laws of thermodynamics forbid the existence of perpetual motion. Yet, no one realizes that it's always been here. It's called war. The scary thing is that war is too fast these days." – Lillian Izzo, __Oured Post Gazette_

**August 21, 2037**

**Above the Bastok Coast**

**0150 hrs**

The C-800s were built specifically for Power Recon. Some questioned the need to update the C-130 Hercules. I guess in the age of upgraded military technology, such a plane seemed outdated. Then again, some probably thought that making the JANE models were excessive. Of course, this was in the infancy of the Ultimate Warrior program. We didn't complain. They were incredibly fast. The seats were a bit narrow. But we didn't complain. No, we had other concerns…like the fact we were going to a goddamn war we didn't start in these sleek, B-2 looking cargo planes that cost the taxpayers a fortune.

The narrow seats were a problem though. We sat with our equipment packs and our guns draped to our sides. We'd become like the kids going to kindergarten for the first time. Only, we didn't have enough time to say goodbye to our parents, have sex with our girlfriends, hug our wives or kiss our kids. There was no dress rehearsal; no easy day at school. This was it.

Our entire Regiment would be the first to touch boots in Yuktobania. The next day, the second regiment and the reserves, finally we'd followed in three days by our non-Recon comrades in the 1st Marine Division. President Shelley's new Mercurial Doctrine was to have every military division, should things go crazy, be anywhere in the world in 18 hours, give or take. Unfortunately, the best laid plans sometimes go wrong. It would 8,000 to 10,000 of us against god-knew-how-many Soma insurgents in three days.

I was in the back area of the 04 plane, dozing off as we were only a few minutes from jumping. We were going into the _Dresdene-Duga-Baston Triangle _as command put it. Our orders: defend Bethlehem Park from the Soma group. What we faced? We then knew the Soma attacked Ocktabursk to kill off the remaining leaders of the Loyalist Army and the country itself. The entire Yuke army was in disarray. Now, the entire Soma army was saying: forget the cease fire…we were going to bring down vengeance and furious anger upon Southern Yuktobania; Drought be damned.

In my sleep, I thought about the first day I went to school. I was put in a different class than Tasha and it was extremely awkward to not have her near me. Every minute I kept looking across the hall trying to see if she too was a nervous wreck. I'm not sure if that was the reason I became sick and threw up all over Mary Sherbet's shoes, but who knew? At the end of the day, I found Tasha again and she was bursting from the seams in excitement over her day. But no amount of hugs from my parents or chewable medicines could boost my shattered ego.

I woke back up in the middle of conversation between some of the guys. Everything was green, the illumination from the night vision goggles underneath the UWS's helmet. Brilliant inventions to have a button switch lower a pair of lightweight NVGs over your eyes beneath the black visors we wore.

I felt like I was on that first day of school. But I was not a five to six year old. As Cameron talked about his embarrassing run in with a drag queen, I realized that it was all the same...and yet so different from back then. I was a nineteen year old with a semiautomatic rifle, C4 charges and a license to kill. Our first war was our first day of school. You could come back alive from school. War was always a question mark.

"How long do you think we're going to be here?" asked Eric; not the crazy, hooker aficionado Eric Martin, but Eric Christensen.

"I'd say three weeks max." said Walt.

"You're crazy. Nothing ever takes three weeks in the Corps." Cameron said.

"Well, at least we'll be the first ones back." I said, a little groggy.

"That is true." Walt replied.

One officer in the front got up and started motioning with his hands. We knew that was our cue to get read.

"Green Light! Recon…up, up!" I heard Lieutenant Dickerson say. The last part of Blue Phase in Recon training was the Airborne training. It took only a week, because technology had so unsophisticated the simple job of jumping out of an airplane. With the new fast release, we could clear a plane in seconds. The exit was to the back, which meant that we'd be the first to jump along with Lieutenant Dickerson, who was in the very back. The officer was always the first out of the plane.

"Hook up!" he shouted.

We stood up and attached our hooks to the line.

"TAC up and sound off!"

To _TAC_ up meant one thing: press the button on our helmets to turn on the Tactical Assessment System; the unit which made the awesome UWS work. TAC also meant that whatever information command was viewing on its GPS and radar scopes. Or it meant to just put the damn suit on, as Moute so eloquently put it. Ironic that he was the Company S-2 at the time. The door began to open and then…

"What the hell!?" I heard someone say.

I saw something white flash past our door. I thought we were under fire. The JANEs were built to withstand heavy impacts from surface to air missiles. In training, we were taught to engage the emergency breakaway system in case of a problem. We'd press the _panic_ button, detach the lines, file out and jump like a normal parachutist would. And just when we started sounding off, God took a giant, imaginary sledgehammer into the wing of our airplane. Thrown into disarray, everyone was falling over each other, cursing and screaming all the way. I was too. The alarms were like screams. I had to pick myself off the floor as Dickerson tried to give his orders…but we already knew.

"Emergency breakaway! Bail out! Bail out!" he shouted.

"Go, go, go! Get out! Go! Move!"

I detached the line and Walt was pushing against me. Another impact shook us as everyone began bailing out. I was afraid we'd flip completely as we listed down and to the left.

"What the hell did they hit us with?!" Walt shouted.

"Forget it Walt! Just get your ass out of the plane!" shouted Sheck.

It was the last thing I heard before I made my lunge for the door. My heart rate slowed slightly before got there. Maybe my brain tricked itself into believing that the ground was safer than a damaged airplane. In some perverse sense, one could make an argument for either said. Micho was next, then me. For a moment, everything swirled inside my head; my mother, my father, my friends, Tasha, Astrid…Dulcinea and Sueltana, both missing in that vast unknown land. The only answer to all those question marks was down. Then, the plane impacted again and I was thrown out into the darkness of night.

***

The fall was filled with twists and turns before I leveled out. It wasn't the HALO jumps Special Forces did. We were at least 10,000 feet when it began, but when we jumped it was more like something out of a bad action movie. We opened our chutes when we could. There was no element of surprise anymore. All along the sky, I saw the strange white streams and red tracers. But they weren't below us. They came from the western horizon as I drifted down into the valley below. The darkness above made it impossible to see what the ground was like, even with the lights of death all around me. However, as I fell further, I thought I saw the tops of trees. I pulled the cord and my chute opened like clockwork.

As I floated to the surface, I began to see the ground better through the night vision and I saw no trees at all. There was nothing but white lines. I then realized there were no living trees below. We still had no information on this mysterious deforestation, famine and drought that had ravaged this country. The country was too wrapped up in its own war to even properly investigate it. Or at least that's what we were told by the media, the officers, and the companies.

I landed with a thud and my helmet cracked up against thick roots. I got up and checked my equipment. The screen was not cracked, but the TAC was off. The ground seemed harder than I thought it would be. I quickly gathered the parachute and ducked low behind a dead tree. I took a quick look around to see if any friendlies were there. However, my TAC system was acting screwy; it would turn on, but the screen was blurry. It was still "roaming". It was not a good way to start a combat action. I packed the parachute in the side ruck we had. The parachutes acted as spare infrared and camouflage shields for fighting holes or company areas. I took two steps…and it was like I was stepping on glass.

Then the full experience hit me. Within the glass facial shield and helmet, I couldn't smell anything but my own air. I'd landed on a hill, and beneath my feet was a massive valley. I didn't have my night vision on since my TAC was screwy, but it could see that I wasn't in the Alaska District anymore. The moon was high overhead with a million stars that littered the heavens with their incandescence. This was Yuktobania. This was the land where Sueltana, my sister lived in peace long before this Soma mess. This was the land where the first girl I loved, Dulcinea, came to abandon home and hearth to help its struggling people.

"Whoa…" was all I could say. As I took it in, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I didn't hear the footsteps. I turned around to see Sheck and Micho along with Walt. I nearly jumped ten feet in the air.

"Oh crap! I didn't see you."

"Stay calm, man." The Sheck said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

We were soon joined by Wash, part of the sniper team. Then there was Kell, Cameron, Cpl. Jenks, Sgt. Walsh, Alphonso, and PFC Willard. We were all crouching, waiting for orders. But after a period of silence, I figured my TAC wasn't the only one on the fritz.

"What the hell hit us?" Walt asked.

"That was no surface to air missile. That was something else…" Alphonso said.

Then, we finally started to pick up radio noise. "Werewolf White One-Seven to any units on the net! Do you copy? I repeat, this Werewolf…"

Sheck knew who it was. "Werewolf Easy Seven-Seven, here. Seventeen calm down. The Yukes don't need to hear you breathing like you're nailing your girlfriend."

Walt apparently did as well. "I've heard enough of that off-base. I mean he was going at it with…"

"Cut it out, Walt. Check your TAC everyone."

The digital display on the helmet screen was like being in a video game. The shield was made out of special poly-glass and other opaque…material to prevent the enemy from seeing where we were. When someone spoke, their name showed up briefly on the screen. And how did we hear inside the noise contained helmet? The sensors outside the helmet alerted our ears. It was like wearing a hearing aid.

"I can't access anyone's location." Cameron said.

"Okay, well, let's move east." Sheck motioned in hand signals for us to line up single file. Jenks was on point and Sheck and I were in the rear as we began the walk to our objective.

If I did know it was a forest originally, I wouldn't have been able to tell. The entire place, except our own voices, was dead silent. There was no life at all. None. There were no insects chirping, no creature scurrying beneath leaves that weren't even there. I touched the side of a tree and it felt like stone than bark. The branches and trunks were only spider webs of the dead, wooden hulks that were frozen in nature's version of rigor mortis. As we left the tree line, we emerged into a valley that was completely void of life. There was only long stretch of nearly nothing. The only identifying landmark was a large opening in the ground some hundred yards in front of us. The ground beneath us went into a gentle descent and then we heard the distant explosions. We heard scattered communications on our net, but oddly none from our own company. We turned and there were flashes around us. Apparently, the hills in the distance were still there. Having seen the barren landscape…I doubted the maps were even right. Sheck said we actually were closer to our objective than we thought.

"Goddamn…this place is a dead zone. This is like being in one of those horror movies." Micho said quietly.

"There's no almost no cover at all." Jenks said.

Finally, we received some orders from above, but it wasn't our company.

"This is Big Bear One to all units. We're continuing the mission as planned. All units, keep moving north towards the Bayori Ridge at Section 12, Grid 4. TAC's showing Yuke Loyalist units in the area near the bridge. Watch your fire."

"This is Werewolf Alpha One. Team Two, keep moving in your current direction. Werewolf Easy 77, head due east and link up with Werewolf Beta One at Section 15. Watch out for friendlies on the way. Our objective is the town of Tsun." Captain Morrison said.

"Wilco, sir," Sgt. Sheckenhousen said. "Guys, we got two klicks to cover and daylight on the move. Let's go to work."

We stepped into the ditch, which was actually a former river. I could tell since there was a boat in the middle of the plain. I could see a few skeletons there as well. Then I stepped on one, the dry bones crushing beneath my feet. I stopped, almost horrified. I just looked around before Sheck nudged me on. _Forget it_, he said. I couldn't believe it. This was the land my sister called home? This was the land where Dulcinea came to atone?

This was probably my mother's worst nightmare. Her dream world was turned into this barren, twisted landscape. It was a place of death.

***

We walked for a mile before we finally hooked back up with Dickerson and the other members of Team One. The hard landings had scattered us all over the place. There were minor skirmishes around the area as Team 2 found that Soma had wheeled up what was apparently some new type of AA gun. They were ordered to destroy it and move on; that was just one. There'd be more. Some town called Tsun was our target. Tsun, for we knew, was some old town that was abandoned two decades ago when we stuck out noses into this country the first time. After clearing the plain, we reached a series of hills and to the our west was the main dirt road up to Tsun.

"Werewolf White 77," the Lieutenant said, "Take your fire team east. TAC's showing some probable friendly units in the area. Check them out and head back to the town. Team 3's already reached the area."

Our Belkan sergeant replied, "Okay, sir."

We turned and began walking in a pair of bunched groups on the way through the dead trees and dust.

Cameron Craft was walking along side Micho and I. Cameron was a short blonde kid with as many tiny red specks on his body as there were grains of sand on the beach. He was the only other guy besides Walt and Micho that was in my boot camp platoon. My father said he reminded him of someone. I knew who he was speaking of. My mother described him very clearly:

_September 28, 2010 – "…and I am impressed with this Grimm character. Our new Belkan-blooded Wardog 4 has a humble look to him. His hair is like the white grains of the Kansas District Plains. But like a child, he asks us 908 questions a day. However, I see something in his eyes. It is the same spark I see in my wingmate's eyes. I even see it in Chopper's eyes, for all his ridiculous antics. Grimm is the child in this sudden war. Is this what war has become…a series of quick body blows? Is it going to get to the point where every war is declared and fought in a single day? Maybe we'll all be children in war…"_

Cameron was different from Grimm because our friend came from Hollywood, the most overrated city in Osea. I thought it was a land of stars and glitz and it was in a few areas. But most of Hollywood was an old town that needed a major makeover. Not to mention that it's overhyped areas like Savile and Soho Row did not justify its absurd prices.

"Your sister used to live in this place?" Cameron asked.

_Keep talking Hollywood boy_, I thought. _Inexpensive coffee, my ass; Eleven dollars for a small, are you kidding me?_

"No, she visited it with my mom. She lived in Ciudad." I finally replied.

"Really? Did she live downtown?"

"Why does that matter?" I asked, "She…she lived in D'Enfante Palisades."

"Wow, she must have been loaded…huh?"

"It's a bullshit name. It's a lower income part of Ciudad, but it's actually the best lowest income place in the country. But you put a lace curtain on a pig…it's still a pig." I said. I had plenty to scoff about the D'Enfante Palisades. If Hollywood was the most overrated part of Osea, then the D'Enfante was the most overrated place in the history of human freaking kind.

I continued, "The whole thing's a wash really. Rachel's father said that there's not a single place in this country that's over middle class. I thought he was exaggerating but…"

I stopped; I looked up and saw something. It was the shape of a man and it appeared to be holding something up in the air. "Hold up. There's someone out there."

"I saw it too. Line up." Sheck said.

We ducked low with our weapons in front. We had no cover in front or behind and whoever it was could have been Soma, civilian or loyalist. We had no idea. Sheckhousen, still crouching, took a few steps in front of us. It probably wasn't Soma. The intelligence reports stated the Soma didn't screw around. They were real quick to shoot at anything that wasn't on their side. I wondered if this person, whoever he was, spoke good or decent Osean. I really didn't feel like translating.

"Loyalists." Alphonso said. "Or one."

"How do you know?" Jenks asked.

"Just the way they move." Alphonso replied tersely.

"Good, Black, we might need you on this one." Sheck said, looking straight at me.

"I'm pretty sure they speak Osean too." I said bitterly.

"Quiet." Sheck snapped back.

"Hold." The figure said.

The figure came with a gun high in the air, a usual symbol meaning they were not an enemy. He placed it on the ground as he walked over.

"Welcome to Hell, friends." the figure continued in perfect Osean. It was strange though, he was short for a soldier and wasn't even in a regular uniform. Well, at least the ones we were told about in the briefings. He looked more like a wilderness expert a soldier. "Well, now I've seen everything."

"What in the world?" I said.

He looked no older than Micho's younger brother, though he probably could have passed for his sister. He had a rather, feminine look to him with the slick parted hair and waif form to him. His voice was as nasal as Micho's sis. Every step was like some kind of fancy tip toe. He wore some kind of uniform.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Are you kidding me? How old is this kid?" Walt said.

"Sixteen, I think. My mother never counted birthdays but I knew when I was born…and right now, when I was born is the least of our concerns." The boy said.

"Wow, this is really strange." Sheckenhousen said.

The teenager laughed. "Strange? If anything's strange, I'd place a few dollars on you guys. You people look like rejects from a space movie."

"What are you doing out here?" Cameron asked.

"I'm your liaison…sort of. I'm actually a member of the _Les Oubliés_, well think of it was a kind of Special Forces of sorts. But…times have been tough. The recent attacks have split us all up. Supplies are low and things are not looking up."

"Is this a joke?" Sheckenhousen said.

"Well, I'm hardly the only kid fighting in this war." The kid said.

"You mean to tell me…you're in a group of _child_ soldiers?" I said.

The idea of child soldiers was sort of a new concept to me. My mother did tell me a story about the brief time she was held captive in Versua. Some of the White Crow regime soldiers couldn't have been older than teenagers. Perhaps some of their deposed supporters were here in Yuktobania, I thought, but a group of Yuktobanian child soldiers? That made no sense at all to me. Sure things were bad, but were things this bad to have twelve and fifteen year olds fighting in this struggle?

"Hmm…now that I think about it, Suzie was supposed to meet up with the others to east. She's awesome. You got to meet her; she tore apart a whole group of Soma troops last week." He said. It was so nonchalant.

We Oseans got nervous about women in combat to not even allow them on the line. I was scared for Tasha being a goddamn Transportation company for crying out loud…and she just drove the truck! Here, people younger than me were killing on a daily basis, much less _girls_…

"This is Werewolf Lima, um…we've run into an unusual situation. We have this kid claiming to be a member of the Loyalist army. Um…hell she could be someone's daughter, goddamn."

"Hmm…I guess it's not so farfetched." Sheckenhousen said.

"It's amazing what people will do when they're desperate, eh?" the kid said.

"Who are you?" Alphonso asked.

"Name's Seto. Seto Dashnaya." He said, shaking Alphonso's hand.

"Well, um…okay. Well, if that's the case, la Paix du seigneur, friend." Alphonso said.

I wasn't sure what language he was speaking. It wasn't Yuke that was for sure. And what was this _Les Oubliés_? But whatever he said, this Seto knew as he merely nodded his head.

Walt was not impressed. "Way to go Mr. Ambassador, spreading peace to a fruitcake."

Alphonso shot him a poisonous look with merely his head. "Walt! Shut up."

"Sir, you got this? What do we do with him?" Sheck asked, looking like he'd lost his dog.

"Well, let's keep him with us." Dickerson said.

"What?! Sir, this kid's a liability! He's going to get killed." Rico said, finally speaking up.

"I've survived far worse. Trust me, death would be a release." Seto said, holding two fingers to his head in the shape of a gun.

I looked at him again, and he did look slightly emaciated. He then reached in his pocket and started eating something, but I couldn't tell at first. I heard the crunch and figured it was an apple. How he found an apple in this desolate place was beyond me. He didn't seem like a suicidal person at first. What really happened here, I wondered. But I had no time to ask him; we still had an objective to get to.

"I'd say he's useful. He knows the area pretty good it seems." The Lieutenant says.

"You think Command's going to let that fly, sir?" said Sgt. Adams.

"Actually, Command's ordering us to let him link up with us. But, I think they're more concerned with us stopping the Soma." Lieutenant Dickerson said, "Okay, kid, you stay in the back, everyone else TAC up. We're behind schedule. Move out."

He picked up his gun from the side of his foot and began walking between me and Walt, a wise decision given the circumstances. It was bizarre, us just blindly trust some kid. But Command said it was okay, and he followed.

"Better watch yourself or going to trip over that gun, kid." Walt said. Seto didn't even look at him.

"I've killed my fair share of Soma rebels. They thought the same thing. How many have _you_ killed?"

"Zing." I said.

"Knock it off. Let's go." Micho said.

For the first time, Micho actually acted like he was my superior. It wasn't much. He was only a lance corporal, but it was clear that Micho's attitude to take charge came on its own there. Then I thought it was a reminder to me that we were in a war zone. It was a reminder that I could die anytime. Or maybe it was because Micho was just tired of clowning around with us; ironic, since he'd done plenty of it himself. Then again, Micho could be a bit of a hypocrite at times…just like his dad.

We walked along the sandy trail until we reached the crest in the hill. Down from our position, we heard noises up ahead. We were almost to the town of Tsun. But leave it to Walt to ask the dumb question…

"How much farther we got?" he said.

"Till Lieutenant tells us to stop, what do you think?" Micho said.

"I wish we had the LARAs…but no." I said, stretching out my last word. "Damn Soma having itchy trigger fingers."

We walked up the road…and there it was. Tsun. It seemed almost too easy to simply walk up into a foreign town and chill.

Going into Tsun was like entering a ghost town from the old westerns I watched when I was a kid. The clearing was surrounded by a mass of dead trees and the dry branches were all over the place. Beneath us was a paved road that was split and cracked to hell. I actually looked down a few times just in case I was stepping on bones again. It was about 0300 and everyone had cleared the Ridge was little or no resistance. Team 3 was standing guard, digging defensive positions and policing the general area.

Funny thing about Power Recon; as advanced as it was and as skilled as we were, there were simply things at the fundamental core of the Marines that would not change. Recon or not, digging those fighting holes was just another tradition that wouldn't go away. I knew this was going to de difficult as the ground was crappy and unstable from all the degradation over the past eight to ten months. I could tell that using E-tools on this surface was a brutal task.

I didn't know much about biology, but I had one question…as did all of us: what kind of chemical weapon caused the entire ecosystem of the Central Highlands to die in such a short amount of time? Things like famine were nothing new. It happened in Estovakia once, but that took at least a year. There was no simple explanation. All we knew was that we were here to fight this war for the struggling Yukes. Ironic that we almost defeated them nearly 30 years ago and we were bailing them out of this problem. No wonder that guys like Walter Snow were bitter. He was paying for the "sins" of his father, Swordsman, and dedicated his entire trip here to stewing about this fact, forgetting the fact his father helped save the country!

We all entered into the company HQ to meet with the Lieutenant and receive our orders. Seto then vanished into one of the rooms, probably hunting around for something to eat. I imagined he'd eat anything, though. This was reality of life in the Baston; ruthless and cruel. Then again, maybe it had always been that way from the bugs to the deer…none of which were around anymore it seemed.

This place was once a makeshift headquarters for the Yuke Army. Or at least, it had that feel to it. Everything was in disarray due to the ravages of time and war. This building had to be from the 2010 war. The aqua paint was still peeling off the wall. Flashlights and computer screens poked through the dust clouds as the Werewolf S-2 and S-3 people set up their stations. Everywhere there were pieces of linoleum and sheet rock strewn about the floor. Part of the upper floor and ceiling had collapsed, exposing the roof and stars above. Mix that with the chippings from the roof and I knew this place could collapse any second. Then again, I knew enough about Yuke buildings that if the ancient school stood for another twenty years…it wouldn't have surprised me.

By now, Dickerson had long since arrived and had received a briefing from the Captain. We gathered inside one of the downstairs meeting rooms, part of which had collapsed into the floor. He gathered us around the table and went through a mock up of the city. It was drawn by some computer. The town consisted of this school, a road which led into two splits, a farm near the left fork, a hill near the right fork, one near our objective, the bridge over the tiny Arus river. It was big enough to support armor attacks and they'd be leading the attack on Bethlehem Park. I kept looking at a picture of Dulcinea folded into my hand while the Lieutenant spoke. I was in the back though and no one paid attention. She was who I was fighting for at the moment. But no anger filled me though. I wasn't sure why at the moment; even more so when Dickerson spoke.

"Okay, boys. Here's the situation. The enemy has stopped its advance for now. But they'll be on their way soon. Intelligence says there's a tank company on the way backed up by mechanized infantry, full strength unknown."

Unknown was always a suspect word in the military. That usually meant a lot of tanks were on the way. One thing I kept forgetting was how young a company we were. Most of us were in our early twenties. It was quite unbalanced. In fact, Sheck was overdue for a promotion to Staff Sgt. I was also long due to receive my Lance Corporal rank ever since I'd lost it punching Walt in the face. Tristan was also due to make Sergeant. At the briefing, we were there to go to the gun line.

We were among the married young, the foolish criminals, or the remnants of the Osean teenage wasteland.

"A tank company? How big is it?" asked Sheckenhousen.

"It could be up to ten tanks, possibly T-78 models but assume they're T-90s and T-100s thrown in. They're coming and we're in their way."

I'd never heard of a T-100 tank before now. I gulped.

"Teams Two and Three will be on the right flank. Raptor Company will be to our left and our Team's shotgun. Sheck, Adams, I want three OPs up twenty to thirty meters from our line. OP 1 will be on the road at the left fork near the farm. OP 2 will be in the middle at the water tower between one and three. OP 3 is at the hill by the bridge. If they do attack, Vampire group will collapse in to support. Any other questions?" he said.

Silence.

"Okay, we're on. Dig those holes boys. We're on Code No Doze for awhile."

Code No Doze was rather simple. We weren't going to be sleeping for a few days.

"Okay, Chambers, Wilson, and Kell will be on OP 1 with Vitor. Marion," Sheck said calling Sgt. Adams by his first name, "you take Rico, Cameron, Ling, and Walt on two. I'll take Black, Alphonso, Micho, and Tristan on OP 3."

So the game had begun. It was kill or be killed for me. It was coming back alive to Dulcinea and my parents, Tasha...or in a body bag.

***

It took quite awhile, but we dug our holes along the top of the hill overlooking the bridge below. The mortar team had the bridge dialed in if we needed support. However, we weren't sure if our superiors got our artillery to us before we started digging. No one above the Captain knew. As such, we dug in anyway. It was one of the moments where you just had to dig your hole with the hands your parents taught you how to use. You dug and dug and waited. You waited with your weapon in your hand for the enemy that was too stupid to show up and let you use your trigger finger. You waited because you knew the enemy was coming and you knew they were shaking in their boots.

And you were going to kill them.

It was rare to have five guys in an OP unless the heavy weapons were involved. Usually it was two or three, or even four if the need called for it. However, in a combat situation you could never be too careful. Sheck figured they'd come by the bridge first. It was the only logical way for an enemy troop column to get through. Of course, Sheck always took too much credit for everything. Everyone figured that command had the idea in place when they saw the reports.

It was 0430. An hour and half of waiting was nothing in the corps. It was after four hours where your mind began to wander and you'd talk about ridiculous things. However, in Recon, you'd usually end up talking about anything after five minutes.

The entire regiment was now aligned along the Arus River. We heard all kinds of communications between different groups. Tristan was unusually chatty about that stuff. That was a bit odd considering Tristan was everything Rico wasn't. Tristan was the silent type who did his job and moved on. Rico was getting to be like Walt. He was becoming moody and snappish. But Tristan, much like Alphonso or Chapman, was not like anybody. He was his own man. Tristan was the other heavy weapons guy. However, his AT-100 rocket launcher only had four rounds. Alphonso was helping him with those heavy rounds since Marko, his usual helper, was needed back at the Sparrow position, the units that would move up to support us in case of an enemy attack.

And as they talked…I thought about how the heck this one river survived all this devastation.

"What are you going to name the kid, Micho?" asked the medium built Estovakian.

"I'm not talking about my family. I'm not getting messed up because of you."

"Though I'm sure Kate wants like seven kids with her Catholic upbringing and all that jazz. I mean she's attractive, but you know how those girls are. Those I-don't-believe-in-abortion- chicks." Sheck said while laughing. He nudged Alphonso in the shoulder.

"That's real cute, Sheck. I'm _very_ impressed." Alphonso said in a rare sarcastic tone.

"Oh come on, I'm just busting you. Anyway, I don't see why not. You Verusans breed like goddamn rabbits." Sheckenhousen said, pointing back at Micho.

"My parents raised seven of us. Hell, Brandon's got a pretty good size family of his own. It's not anything new."

He was right. I thought about my dead sister Catherine for a minute. I always wanted to ask my father what his first born was like. I never got around to it though. But given my mother's constant references to children she'd like to have in her diary, I would assume that her death all but crushed them. No wonder they sacrificed everything to get revenge on the Versuans. Though, I wondered if the deaths of their old friends Archer and Swordsman still weighed on them after two decades. They said it didn't, but when I thought about it I didn't believe them. They had no reason to though; after all, they went to war supporting them to the bitter end and paid the ultimate price for it. Then again, if they hadn't…millions more people would have died. Osean history conveniently forgot the over 500,000 Versan civilians who died in that terrible war, from not only the electromagnetic weapon, but landmines left behind, disease, and so on.

"Well, if my other sister was still alive, I'd have four sisters." I said.

_Would have._ Maybe that was what caused me to be scared earlier. It was what ticked me off about Walt. There was no reverence about this wasteland of a place my mother once called a beautiful place. There was nothing here but death and there'd be more death if the enemy came.

"That's a lot of estrogen for one family. But why do you count her? She's not your real family." Tristan continued.

"Go tell that to my mother's face. Sueltana's as much a part of our family as anyone else."

"You never did finish telling me about her." Tristan said.

"She's a writer for a newspaper, or was at one point. When the Soma attacked Cinigrad, the Palisades were easy pickings. She and her family managed to get out of the city and we got word from her that everything was okay. She went back to the city during that brief stretch when the Loyalists retook the Eastern part of the city. However, when part of the army defected to the Soma, it was the last I'd heard from her." I said.

"My parents, the year I still in my mother's womb, fled Emmeria after…"

"Whoa, I thought you said you were from Estovakia." I said.

"My parents were. They left that place behind years before I was born. When Gracemeria was overrun, my parents got the hell out of Emmeria and didn't look back. They wound up in Yuktobania…which wasn't much better. It was worse actually. They drifted from one shelter to another. We don't even remember the exact day I was born because we were moving so much. I was born in the back of a truck or something on the way to Bastok…or at least that's what my parents said at the time. Many of the people they fled with didn't make it. They starved, or got lost and were never seen again, or killed in the crossfire between the Loyalists and Communists…or even that brief time when the Verusans invaded." He concluded.

"Enough stories, I think I see something out there." Sheck interrupted.

I saw the shapes in the distance. They were moving down the hill some ways away. Distance estimation was not my strongest suit, but the shadows looked at least 600 yards away. This was in the pitch black of early morning. However, I wasn't the only one to see them.

"That's too close. TAC should have picked them up." Alphonso said.

"What's going on?" I heard Chambers say from OP 1.

He couldn't see what I saw, but everyone in OP3 did when he said that. The silhouettes continued to move down from the ridge and into the dead tree line. There was almost a strange shine to their movements.

"Lieutenant, we got company." Sgt. Sheckenhousen said, "OP 2, this is 77. You're seeing this?"

"Roger, we already primed. They're probably using those old infrared blankets or something." Sgt. Adams said.

"This is Werewolf Alpha. TAC's picked up an advance unit moving for 2 and 3; mechanized infantry with additional fighting vehicles moving south to the bridge. They are confirmed hostile, you're cleared hot. Hold until support arrives." Captain Morrison said.

Sheck turned to us, smiling beneath the helmet's glass. "Okay. Gentleman, let's turn their fucking lights off!"

A large stream of enemy soldiers came out of the western side of the dead trees blindly firing their weapons at us. We didn't even say anything. We merely fired on the column as the other OPs opened fire in support. One BMP came up and Rico knocked it out from the top of the tower with one shot. I wasn't sure if my bullets were hitting anything at the moment, but our entire volley of fire obviously stopping the enemy. It only took two clips before we'd mowed down the entire enemy concentration. It was almost too easy.

"Is that the best they can do?" Tristan said, unusually cocky.

In the distance, I could hear the blasts of distant combat. Teams Two and Three were involved in their own furious combat further down the river. I guessed the entire length of the river was being attacked. At the moment, we were okay as long as the flanks didn't collapse. We heard the deafening fire as the sounds screamed into our ears from the modules on our helmets.

TAC then signaled enemy vehicles were on the way. I wondered how they got so close. Were they waiting on us the entire time? Just as we began to fire again, we heard several impacts along the river. White splashes mixed with red and white tracers over the banks of the river. I was caught up in the cadence of my own duties. Fire, fire, reload, fire, fire, and reload. After that, I wondered if we were even shooting at targets anymore. TAC was showing the figures in the forest, but we couldn't quite get any sure shots. They were some 200 to 350 yards from us. It should have been easy, but the cursing coming from the others told me we weren't getting anything.

And in one second, the shooting stopped from the other side. By now, the Sparrow teams had moved up to support us, and snipers from the school and the woods had joined in. the mortar teams had dropped two dozen rounds on the area to the left and the right of the kill zone. The fight had lasted nearly twenty minutes before everything went quiet. There was nothing but smoke coming from the mass of dying and dead trees.

"I think they've fallen back." Alphonso said.

Then, twelve almost simultaneous bursts of water and mud tore our field of vision apart. We all ducked low as we exactly what was attacking us. They'd replied in kind to our mortar fire.

"We got mortars falling near the river, sir! Do we hold?" Sheckenhousen said.

Just as he asked that, part of the dead tree line erupted about 100 yards from us. The line curved down a hill, giving us good sight on that part of the area below. It was just only a few yards from our allies' positions. Then, one more round erupted some fifty yards from us. They were getting closer. My heart sped up to mach speed. Sheck repeated his sitrep.

"Negative. Fall back! Fall back!" Captain Morrison shouted. "OP 1 and 2 move to Fallback Position 1. OP 3, provide covering fire until the other positions are withdrawn. Fall back to Position 3."

"Werewolf White Eight to Alpha. I'm pushing the balance of Team 3 up to the river." Lieutenant Riba shouted.

"Vampire is en route; ETA, six minutes." Morrison said. "All OP units, fall back to Position 1."

I certainly wasn't going to argue with that. There was nothing we could do to stop the mortar fire. We had no contact with artillery and the mortar crews had lost some of their rounds when their plane was hit.

"Werewolf Unit, this is G1. Rescind current order. All Over-watch Positions will remain in defensive position." said a mysterious female voice.

"What? Who the hell is G1?" Dickerson shouted.

We knew all the significant call signs we needed. We knew the Recon ones by heart. Our company's call signs were these: Werewolf White, one Red, and one Blue and the number based on what group you were with. Team call signs had double digits in the 60s, 70s, or 80s. Command had single digits. However, every military group had a similar style, but different names. For example, in the regular Army, our Team's (or platoon's) call sign would probably either be anything from Echo to Super.

We had no idea what the hell G1 was. It couldn't be the big brass from Central Command. Battalion HQ went by Godfather. Regiment was Big Bear. Most of us didn't even know Regiment or Division call signs, but none of them would have been G1!

"Um…what is this? Who is this on our net, Captain? Request identification!"

"This is G1 from Central Command. I repeat, rescind current order and remain in defensive position."

That probably meant us dying. We'd only been in Yuke-land for four hours max and we were going to die at the hands of mortar fire. For all our training, there were only two things we couldn't stop: air power and artillery. And we knew enough about the Yukes to know they weren't shy about using artillery _at all_. I remembered a story in training about a group of the Osean Army's 101st Airborne running into this problem during the 2010 Operation Desert Blitz. Easy company only sustained a few light casualties despite heavy fighting to the oil refinery in Jilachi. They lost a _quarter_ of their company in three minutes. The Yukes had wheeled up MLRS launchers, Paladins, and freaking battleship guns. We were scared out of our minds. Or least I was.

How the hell was I going to make it back alive when some call sign I didn't even know was giving me orders that countermanded common sense?!

More explosions were heard and I knew I was going to die.

"I'm clarifying with Godfather…they're a little confused too. Stand by." Captain Morrison said.

"They better hurry up, those mortars aren't waiting!" Sheck said.

Fear overtook me. I was going to die. My parents were going to lose their second child. I would be a generic gravestone in Arlington. I'd never see Dulcinea, Astrid, Tasha or Sueltana again. They'd never see me. I'd be forgotten forever and there was nothing worse than being forgotten. I dropped my weapon and fell inside my fighting hole. I wanted it all to go away. I wanted it to end and the fear could be finished. I crawled into myself and I was trapped in a black hole where not even light could escape…and then…

Silence.

"They've stopped." Tristian said. His voice and his breathing was shaky.

"Guns up, boys." Sheck ordered us.

"What I want to know is…what is this G1? Sounded like a computer or something." Alphonso said, struggling to put a clip inside his X-88.

"No, she wasn't a computer. I bet she's probably some nerdy chick from the Regiment staff or something." Sheck added.

And just when I thought we were in the clear…those strange white tracers came back. They exploded in small pools of fire all around the area.

"Oh, shit!" I shouted.

"What are they shooting at us!?" I heard Rico shout.

Fate was a cruel mistress. And just as we thought we were done, "G1 to OP 3. Maintain your position. Be calm. Assistance is on the way. Enemy tanks and mobile artillery confirmed at Grid 17, point 135-XE395. Threat level at 98 percent; initiating Combat Mode. Targeting support, on, activating Golgotha System. Switching to Manual override. Support in 3…2…1."

There was a sound in the air, the sound of a zooming and a scream. Next, there was a pool of fire and it erupted all across the kill zone in front of us. The table turned in one action. But there were no planes in the sky!

"Holy shit! Yeah! Woo!" said Sheckenhousen.

"What in the world is this?" Micho said.

TAC then confirmed our worst fears. There were more of them out there moving toward us. They were a group of them moving along the road near the west side of the bank.

"Tristian! The left! More of them!" Alphonso screamed.

"They're history!" said Tristan, gaining his confidence back.

However, G1 was not finished yet. "This is G1, additional enemy detected. Manual Override engaged. Economy Switch enabled. Targeting additional enemies with artillery support in 5…4…"

Tristan was confused. He had a sure lock on the enemy tank in front…and it wouldn't do anything. "What in…my weapon! It won't fire!"

"2…1…impact."

Then, a series of seven blasts occurred. Each one was bright with a white burst of sun. It was the familiar sound of artillery fire. The tanks were gone.

"What in blazes is this?!" Sheck said, confused.

But something triggered in me and I became confident again. I'd see my loved ones again. "Wow, did you see that!"

As the dust cleared, there was a silence save the hollering of the others who'd witnessed the massacre of the enemy T-90s or whatever they were. Then, almost like clockwork, the female voice came back. "Threat level is now at 38 percent; G1 cancelling support. Freelance command returned to Werewolf Alpha. Continue your mission. Have a nice day."

_**Have**__ a nice day_, I thought. What was this woman thinking? Could anyone in command have been so nonchalant about the possibility of us being run over by tanks?

"All units, this Werewolf Alpha. All enemy units are in retreat. Just reinforce your positions and stand by."

We were stunned. We sat there for a long minute taking in what we just saw. If this was the new face of war, I thought, I'd signed up for the right war. I knew at that time the Hephaestus Project was probably the greatest invention in the history of mankind. Whoever G1 was, she'd won us the battle we started.

Total battlefield control indeed.

"Did you see that man? That was incredible!" I said, jubilant.

But the Sheck was not convinced. "See what? That was…almost…inhuman."

"What are you talking about?" Micho said. Micho had been quite silent for some time. Was he too shocked by this?

"Those Soma tanks…did you see the way they were taken out? Did we even drop with the artillery support?!" Sheck said. He was almost ready to jump out of his fighting hole.

"I don't think we did. Where did the howitzers come from?" I said.

"I'm not saying we did or didn't. I mean…just the accuracy alone! It took out one at a time. I've never, in the history of warfare, heard of an artillery unit that knocked out seven tanks in a row without a miss!"

"We got the best guys in Corps, Sheck." Micho added.

"Dude, I know. My brother is in the Kings Company for the Arty units attached to Raptor. His guys are good, but they're not _that_ good. They're not _scarily accurate_ good. Artillery's not supposed to be deadly accurate anyway just enough so it doesn't hit us or civilians."

Alphonso, with his face rather icy, then put on a smile and put his arm around his Sergeant.

"We're alive, Sarge. That's all that matters." He said. Sheck cracked a smile.

I was still smiling. I was alive. I'd earned my first combat ribbon. But most importantly, I was alive. At the moment, I didn't care about G1 or the Soma. Micho was pumping his fist. He was glad to be alive. I sat back down in my dusty fighting hole, took off my mask, ignored the absolutely horrible smell of the outside world…and kissed the wrinkled up picture of Dulcinea.

I was alive. That was all that mattered.

***

For six hours, we waited as the fires still burned with choking smoke from the enemy armor attack. We had to change positions from the right to the left of the bridge, which meant digging another hole and setting up once again. Walt had joined us and once again, he was complaining. It was getting to be a pain in the ass. We still had no answers as to this mysterious G1. It was strange that we'd question something that saved our bacon; but truth be told, to not question the technique was madness. I imagine that was how my father felt the first time he took to the air in close air support. How could the Osean soldiers back then, some of them as young as me, not look at the skies and wonder what angel had saved them?

We were due to be relieved by Riba's guys soon and the only thing we could do was wait for another attack. We did get lucky though. We didn't lose a single man in the frenzy of combat. However, there was no time for souvenir gathering. Although that contest was still in the trust, we still had all kinds of problems. We were still waiting on intelligence on this ecological disaster that had taken this beautiful land and turned it into a nightmare wasteland. As day came on, I saw the Baston Forest for what it really was. It was just another desert. The wind could blow and every tree would fall into dust.

We were eating our MREs when, all of the sudden, I saw Seto walking up to our position with an SKS rifle strapped to his side. He had a few grenades strapped on and once again he was eating an apple. I wanted to know where the hell he was getting all these apples from.

"Beautiful…isn't it?" he said with a smile the size of Saturn's rings.

"Hey, what are _you_ doing here!?" I said.

"Checking out the damage. It's amazing. It's almost erotic. Kind of like your friend there." He said, nudging his head towards Micho.

"Yeah, it is…whoa, what the hell are you talking about?" Micho said, having heard us. Seto did this wink at me, and then I started to laugh. I got the message.

"I think he likes you Micho." I said.

Micho arched an eyebrow…then recoiled in horror as Micho came up and touched him on the shoulder.

"Dude! Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me!" Micho said, pulling away from Seto. "Dude, I don't roll that way. I got a wife."

Seto laughed and fell to the ground, rolling around. "I was just kidding with you. Oh well, that's too bad."

"We got dragged around the world for an ecological nightmare, some mysterious woman called G1 changing orders, and the only loyalist run into is a fruity sixteen year old kid with an Ak…something. In country almost ten hours and I've already seen everything." Sheckenhousen said.

However, Seto wasn't even looking at him. He was looking straight at me. I'd taken off my helment for a minute to clear out some dust when Seto was staring.

"Wait a minute…oh…I see. Oh…I get it. Now I see…"

"What the hell are you talking about? Why are you staring at me?" I said.

Seto cackled. "Wow, no…now _I've_ seen everything. You're the one aren't you? You're the one in all her photographs."

"What?" I asked.

"Sueltana. Hell, I lived in her building in the Palisades for months. And that girlfriend of yours…you sure know how to pick 'em." Seto said, finishing with a whistle.

I just stood there like my feet were stuck in a frozen lake and with a confused look on my face, I just looked at him with a thousand mile stare.

Next Chapter: Les Enfants Oubliés


	5. Les Enfants Oubliés

Note: There is a ton of radio and military jargon in this chapter and I know I'm no expert on it, but remember this is the AC world. Oh, and by the way...as a heads up, the next chapter will be from Tasha's point of view. So keep reading!

Chapter 5: Les Enfants Oubliés

"…_maybe we'll always be children in war. Whichever side wins has to be the biggest bullies on the playground…and that's not always a good thing." – Kei Nagase, written September 30, 2010_

Just after he said that, our company was relieved by Vampire on the line. It wasn't really relieving anyone. We were just going to sit by for about two hours then take Raptor's place. Just in case the enemy attacked, we were in striking distance of the line. In that case, all it really meant was we were merely in reserve. It was amazing how much roundabout language existed in the armed forces. We dug our holes and I walked to the HQ and forcibly grabbed Seto and brought him back to our Team's area. Lieutenant Dickerson was talking to the Captain, and I knew he was going to give us a briefing soon. I guessed this because they had the AO (area of operations) maps and the clipboards, plus the S-2 people together under the camouflage netting, which usually meant something was afoot. I had to get this out of the way.

He was bit curt with his high and whiny voice, but I kind of had fun taking him away from his little relaxation zone. He was dodging me during the entire move to the rear. Walt, Sheck, Alphonso and Micho, along with Kell and Wash were in the general area.

"Wait…okay. First off, tell me how you know my sister. And how did you know Dulcinea?" I asked. Then I decided to fix my fighting hole. I started chipping away at the edges with my E-tool.

"Well, long story short. I lived in the Palisades for some time. We moved there like four years ago. My parents were drunks and they didn't really care what I did. I lived in Apartment 3-C, the…"

"Peria Apartment, my sis lived in 3-B." I said.

"She was real sweet. Sueltana taught me how to draw and I was real good at it. I sold my drawings and did caricatures for coin so my I wouldn't be living on the street. Her husband often went over to my folks' house to have some vodka or two, or even three with them. Everybody in Palisades was drunk at some point in the day. It was not the most pleasant place to live. It was like living in a slum that had polished up with grease. I used to ask her who the twins in the pictures were. It was her brother and sister: Brandon and Tasha, right? There were also pictures of this little girl too, but I couldn't remember her name."

I remembered the pictures because it was the one of Astrid when she was three and seven years old. My mom had her in his ridiculous princess get up. Then I remembered four years later when Astrid had her party and it was the only one Sueltana came too. It was the party my mom had shaped after the theme of her childhood fairy tale, _A Blue Dove for the Princess_.

"What happened next?" I asked.

"The Soma came…and so did the Dogmen. They announced their revolution the day your niece…turned 8."

Micho interrupted. "That was the same day we left for boot, dude!"

"December 1st. They were having the party for Lucy. Then…the roof collapsed. The army division which was based three blocks away, revolted. They pelted our neighborhood with artillery shells. They were after the Loyalist garrison around Lubanka Asylum. I never knew why they had military troops there. Sueltana never knew." Seto continued.

I didn't know either. Why would a military garrison be around the nut house?

"Most of the children party goers died. The only survivors were the family and I. Soon, Ciudad became a killing ground. Every street was a gun battle. Yuri Moloni, Sueltana's best friend, got tagged by friendly units by accident. They tried to get her to a hospital, but there were just too many people to treat…"

"I remember that! My mom told me. They just left her in the triage; she got gangrene in her leg and died!" I shouted.

"I lost them in the chaos. I eventually hopped on a cargo train west as everywhere from Psel to Jilachi was contested. And this was _after_ the strange deforestation started. I passed through Severja and people were clamoring for the train. The Soma was attacking that city. They dumped the cargo and evacuated everyone they could from age 6 to 18. We were packed in there like sardines."

"Now I see where this is going. This Les Enfants Oublies…children conscripted into the Loyalist Army…survivors of the Severja massacre." Alphonso said.

What he mean by massacre, I thought. Seto became visibly angry.

"You know about that? The world turned a blind eye to it." Seto said, almost hissing at us.

Alphonso nodded his head. "Now I see. _Les Enfants Oublies_: the forgotten children."

Then out of nowhere, a trio of kids came running out of the woods to our left. Most of us had our TAC off for the moment and we didn't even see them coming. However, Seto was excited to see them. Judging from his reaction, I assumed that these were the people he was talking about last night. As they walked over, the officers didn't seem to care too much. Sheck was a bit disturbed by this, judging from this angry face. I knew they'd come into contact with other friendly units, judging from the amount of MREs they were packing on their bags. The teenagers were varied in height. The tallest one was obviously the leader and unlike the other two adolescents, she was packing an AK. The AK was an interesting weapon and anyone as young as eight years old could use it.

"Who is this?" Sheck asked.

The leader was taller than Walt and had a uniform on that was a little big for her at the top. The bottom parts of each pant leg were cut off; she was wearing them like shorts. She had brown knee high socks on and red, low top canvas shoes. It was also kind of filthy from the dirt and grime around there. Her skin was dirty as well and there were chunks of rocks in her blonde pigtails. The only thing that looked clean on her was her blue mirror eyes. From her neck there hanged a pair of aviator sunglasses and on each wrist was a series of watches, rings and bracelets. It was definitely not the most tactical thing on the battlefield. She kind of shuffled around a bit as if she had drank a few cups of coffee or bummed some "speed" pills off the rear echelon guys.

"This is Suzie, Uai and Tatiana. It's a good thing Suzie's here…now she can tell the other half of my story." Seto said.

The other two stayed silent. The smallest was Uai, who, like Seto, looked more like a girl than anything else with his twisty brown hair and eyes the color of the ground. The medium sized, pale skinned, and bleach haired girl, shuffled her feet. The almost anti-social Tatiana was lanky and emaciated, but was the slightly more attractive of the two girls. Tatiana reminded me of Rebecca Harding, that Goth chick from high school. The tallest, the Suze, hemmed and hawed a bit. Suzie looked straight at me. She was pacing back and forth like she was waiting on someone.

"They look more like Oseans than Yukes." Micho commented.

Suzie then spat out a ton of words at breakneck speed. It was obvious she was on something. Her voice was high and screechy.

"I was born in Osea, but my parents lost their common sense and moved back to this dog vomit hole. I hated my parents. They were always on drugs or out of the house. I had to take care of my little sisters by myself! Soma sons of…they ruined everything! They bombed us, they unleashed this sickness unto the plants and farms, and they're trying to starve us! They keep robbing the international aid ships at the port! They don't care who they kill! They drove us out of our homes. They defiled our city! They've put up walls and guns around our beautiful city! They killed our policeman and clergyman and videotaped it too! They want to satisfy their imaginary god. They want liberate us from Democracy! I hate them! I freaking hate them! My parents, my stupid brother who went off and joined Soma! I taught myself how to use a gun and I killed him myself! Three shots to the head! And I'll kill any son of a bitch traitor that comes between me and my home! To hell with them!" she shouted, her arms waving. It was almost as if she wasn't talking to us anymore. She paced and moved around constantly trying to burn off whatever motor was running inside her.

We were quieter than still air. However, in the confusion of her rapid words it was rather easy to figure out why this Suzie was fighting the enemy. They'd driven her out of house and home. The Soma had brought the fight to her town's doorstep because of some ancient religious divine right to Yuktobania's sovereignty. But we all knew it was more than that.

"Wow. You've got some deep anger there." Alphonso said, effectively speaking for all of us.

"I'm sorry, I'm talking a little fast." She said, shaking her head and shuffling her body entirely too fast.

"No, really? I didn't know. How much of those amphetamines did you do?" Seto asked her.

Walt laughed and then I realized that compounding this misery in Yuke-land was this fifteen-sixteen year old girl in a uniform a size too big and hopped up to the eyeballs on stimulants. And I felt guilty for trying pot once. She was chock full of them.

"Oh, I'm loaded Seto. I needed them to stay up all night!" Suzie said. If she talked any faster, smoke would have come out of her ears.

Then Seto explained to Suzie in Yuke about me and she turned to me and once again the motor mouth went at it.

"Oh, _this_ guy. He's the lucky boyfriend of that Dulcinea chick from the aid camp we stayed at for a few weeks. I saw she had your picture on the wall of her station you in this army uniform and she was all proud of you and what not. She had this beautiful brownish hair, but her skin looked all peach and shit, but I swear she's gorgeous. If I wasn't straight as an arrow I'd take a hot shower with her, she's that attractive. I mean, goddamn she was…"

"Okay, that's enough, Suze! And stay off those amphetamines, for crying out loud! You never shut up when you do the fuel!"

That implied…that she did this…on a _regular_ basis. _Wow_, I thought.

Walt was cracking up the whole time. He always had to add fuel to the problem. "This girl is a riot! Hey, our fruitcake here says you took out a Soma tank. How'd you do that?"

She walked over to Walt and began dramatizing her actions with a furious use of hand motions. "Well, here's what I did…I was in the Sonza, right and I dug this hole in the middle of a road where I knew tanks were coming by. Did I mention I hate tanks? Well, if I didn't then, I hate them! I hate them! I hate them! Anyway, so I dug this hole, I hid under this board of leaves and crap I made. So I put like, C4 charges the soldiers gave me, on the tanks' bottoms. Then Corina did the same thing like a mile down the road on the ones I missed. Then, I waited and waited and I pressed the detonator and BOOM! It was so much fun killing those desert rebel scumbags and I'd do it again if I had to."

Once again, we were quiet. Even Walt was amazed. "Wow, you Yukes are some weird people."

The Sheck broke the silence. "I do have one thing to say. We really need this chick back in Osea."

"I would do anything to go back to Osea, I mean I'd…" Suzie started.

"Okay, okay…calm down, kid. I mean, we really need her to do commercials: kids, this why you shouldn't do drugs." Sheck said, pointing at Suzie.

There was a long pause. Then everyone started cracking up.

"Well, I guess if you lived in this piece of crap country, I'd be enough to make you do some illegal stuff." Walt said.

"There was one other thing I wanted to ask you…" I asked before my Queue 30 buzzed. Since we were in the rear, the Busy signal was turned off for the moment. However, it could be cut back on in a second's notice. "It's my mom. She knew I was off. I'll be back."

I heard some of the guys snicker, but I didn't care. The worst part of all was there was no more information about Sueltana's whereabouts. I was stumped. I knew they knew more. I decided I'd get more information from them after conversing with ma.

_**Mother**__**: It's about time. I've been watching the news worried. So, how's Yuktobania treating you?**_

_**It's a real treat. I'm getting shot at with artillery and I'm just waiting for the planes to show up.**_

_**Mother**__**: Very funny, Brandon. It seems war hasn't already taken away your acerbic sense of humor.**_

_**How's dad?**_

_**Mother**__**: He's fine. He's talking to Tasha a lot though. They're part of the 1**__**st**__** Division, so they'll be over there pretty soon. He's worried about you more than I am. Cocky guy, he won't admit anything though.**_

_**Have you heard anything from Tasha?**_

_**Mother**__**: Not much, I know she's been delayed. That man she's dating? He's in your squad right?**_

_**Yeah. Rico. He's an alright guy, but lately he's been a bit…snappish. I'm not sure he likes me all that much. Lord knows why.**_

_**Mother**__**: I'm not sure if he's just being ornery of if there's something deeper. I understand that Recon School was a highly competitive place. Maybe one of your harmless pranks…**_

_**He didn't join us until late because someone else was medically shipped out.**_

_**Mother**__**: Oh, I see. You know, Astrid starts back at school in three days. She's acting rather brash. She's going to be popular since you two will be in Yuktobania. It's kind of…disturbing.**_

_**Mom, you're not going to believe this. There are actually kids as young as Astrid fighting in this war. Some are as old as Micho's bro and sisters.**_

_**Mother**__**: I'm…speechless. Are you…there's no way. That's…they're actually fighting and killing people?**_

_**Oh yeah. They've even got AA batteries they've commandeered from the enemy protecting us. It's unbelievable. Some of them on drugs, it's just insane. And it gets worse. I talked to a kid who knew Sueltana, and he has no idea what happened to her since he left.**_

_**Mother**__**: Dear God. You know what's equally disturbing; I saw H Corporation commercials today, saying they support the troops. Funny, I didn't see that before the war started. It almost seems like their war…not Osea's. **_

_**Here we go again…oh damn. I got to go. The LT's calling a Team meeting.**_

_**Mother**__**: Love you.**_

"Team 1, rally up!" Dickerson said.

I could only think, _what was it going to take for her to drop that subject?_ How did she go from child soldiers to the H Corp?! The H Project was the reason we'd been trusted to be the spear of this assault. I closed the Queue as it went back into busy mode. I was pissed off, not only because of what ma said, but because I didn't even have time to look at Dulcinea's messages. She knew I was in country and I'd sent her a message letting her know I was okay after the battle last night.

"We're going to continue this discussion soon." I said, passing by the Yuke teens.

"I got nothing but time. I got nowhere else to go." Seto said. "Well, actually…yeah, I do but…you know."

"Whatever." I said.

We gathered around the old house where the officers used as a temporary HQ. Dickerson laid a large map tablet on an old truck's hood.

"Okay gentlemen, here's the news." Lieutenant Dickerson began, "we've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that according to Werewolf Alpha, we got more Soma coming our way. Probably more mechanized infantry. Other areas have reported the Soma coming in large infantry columns. As such, there's no time to do any snatches or investigate the poor guys we killed yesterday."

"Sir, I'm sorry for interrupting but…is there any word from Command on this G1? Do we have to be prepared for it?" asked Sgt. Sheckenhousen.

"Nothing. Recon CENTCOM is keeping a tight lid on things. Whatever they tell us is what we have to go with. And that brings me to the good news as we've got arty now. The 125th Artillery Company, callsign Suicide, is backing us up. The 125 was called up at the last minute and slipped in last night without us knowing. However, they were testing out some new artillery round and the results have been…mixed."

That certainly explained one thing.

"That brings us to the next point. Apparently, those of you were due for promotions were supposed to have your stripes upgraded three weeks ago. But due to some Charlie Foxtrot in the chain, it's been a little late. Here's the problem. Command has determined that battalion, as you know, is a bit short on people. That seemed to really hinder us last night." Dickerson said with a smile.

We all chuckled.

"Due to that and other…_personnel issues_, we're getting a bunch of FNGs in three days to shore up the ranks. Judging by the Soma's strength relative to the current population and Loyalist Army numbers we're going to need every man we can get until our backup arrives. And speaking of which, 1st Marines arrival has been delayed by additional 36 hours; one more day without backup. Don't bother asking why, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."

_Was that why Tasha was talking to dad?_

"We're getting seven new enlisted guys plus one officer to the company. These guys either all failed out of the last phase of Recon or had their training cut short due to this mess. We need to make some changes in the personnel to make up for the influx. Mostly, we were forced to promote those with the largest skill sets indicated by previous accomplishments." He said.

Dickerson then pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like some kind of plastic bag.

"Sheckenhousen will be moved up to Staff Sergeant and remain assistant Team leader. Sergeant Adams and Corporal Adair will command Squads One and Two. Squad Three will now be commanded by Corporal Wash. PFCs Cameron and Black will move up to Lance Corporal and full Corporal respectively and be assistants to Corporal Adair in Two. Alou and Snow will be moved over from group One, and four of the new privates will join them."

_A double promotion?_ It was unprecedented, so early, so rare and strange. Then, I calmed down a bit. Did I really earn it? How did I earn it? Lieutenant Dickerson referenced _skill sets_. What skills did he mean? My ability to hack my Queue 30? My ability to speak Yuke and all its dialects? My encyclopedia's knowledge of radio frequencies? My ability to maintain a long distance relationship? Was that what warranted me going from a PFC to full Corporal? Or maybe it was overdue anyway from the time I was supposed to a LC. One thing I knew though: I didn't earn it. But my father taught me to take everything I was given for free because it was hard to be lucky in real life.

Blaze said 98 percent of everything happened for a reason. The other two percent was blind, stupid luck. And I'd sure had plenty of dumb luck in my life. But was there a reason for this?

"Oh, and one more thing. You guys will love this. Sergeant Teller is coming back with the new guys."

We all started losing our minds. Everyone loved Hoot. I thought he'd never walk again after that HALO accident. Hoot was real popular with everyone. When the last ones in our class were chosen for the month long final phase of Recon Training, Hoot was our class leader next to the Sheck and even Sheck gave Hoot his respect. That parachute accident was obviously not enough to stop the toughest guy in the unit and we were foolish to think so. Our good old country boy was coming back.

"Holy…Hoot's coming back, sir? Is some kind of dream, sir? Wow." Micho said.

"It's a miracle he's walking again." Sheck said, calmly.

"Okay, we got the new stripes for you lucky gentlemen. If you'll step right up..."

Since the suit was nothing like anything the regular Marine units wore, there had to be alternate ways to designate insignia. Since TAC was not always on, as we'd been instructed to remove the helmets except in a combat zone or during the threat of a chemical attack, there was an alternate way of designating rank. Soma, of course, couldn't be able to tell who was which rank. We had small plastic strips with charcoal-silver color for enlisted, green for officer and a number designating rank (1 for E-1, 2 for E-2 and so on). We also had the insignia for the dress blues and the Charlie uniforms, but we weren't going to need them in Yuktobania. One by one, we stepped up and Lieutenant Dickerson slid the new rank into place on our left shoulder. When he did mine, I had a look of confusion and excitement rolled into my expression.

"Gentleman, enjoy them now. You'll have to earn these later." The LT said while he performed the honor. It felt like a true battlefield promotion, even though we'd done little to earn that.

"Get some!" some of the guys yelled.

Dickerson then went back to his maps and briefs.

"Now, as for the current situation, we're going to be in defensive mode for a few more days. We'll get resupplied by air and we'll be guarded on our flanks by these…Les Enfants Oubliés and their AA guns. We'll be getting the LARAs in tomorrow. We're still not sure of the enemy's full strength. We're going to reinforce our positions around the…"

An explosion to our west and another to our north caused us to go into combat mode. We all began grabbing our weapons.

"This is Werewolf Alpha! All Werewolf units up on line now! Vampire is taking accurate mortar fire from Grid 15. Infantry vehicles spotted near the east side!"

"Move! Get on your sectors!" Dickerson said.

We began running back to the front line, Vampire's old positions and began checking TAC. At this point, I wasn't even worried about Dulcinea or my family. Adrenaline and instinct took over this time, not training. We didn't bother organizing the positions. There was no time. Soma infantry was on the way and mortars were pelting our _old_ position. Across the river, there was an old farm house and we began taking AK fire from it as we settled into whatever position we could find.

"These guys just don't give up." Micho said.

"Might as well get used to it, brother. We face a relentless enemy. We are in the valley of the shadow of death, friends." Alphonso said over the radio.

"Yeah, but we're the true bastards in the valley! Hoorah!" Sheck said.

Gunfire picked up from the old farm as more and more beige colored enemies gathered across the other side of us.

"Hey, get some rounds on that building!" Dickerson ordered.

We began concentrating our fire on the farm house, exchanging fire with the enemies across the bank. It was almost child's play. We were gunning them down with impunity but like rats they continued to pour out of the dead woods. As the fire began to taper off, Dickerson finally managed to get through to Suicide for arty support. I was cold as I did my best to kill the enemy. I wasn't quite as angry as I thought I'd be. I was still angry, but I went through my progressions and shot one Soma jerk right through the eyes. He was carrying an RPG…but he got a round off just as I killed him. But Micho beat me to the call…he was seeing the same thing I was.

"RPG!" he shouted to the left. Then I noticed that he wasn't calling out the one I'd seen fire…but another one.

The first round flew right over my head and hit a dead tree behind me. The burst almost knocked the wind out of me…but I wasn't hurt. The concussion only knocked me to the ground. The second crashed exactly where Micho was pointing and yelling. And the second I heard the screams I knew…we'd taken our first casualty. I climbed out of my fighting hole.

"I'm hit!" Tristan screeched. "Soma bastards…they got me! Corpsman!"

Our Corpsman, "Doc" Gray, ran up to the position and pulled out Tristian. I took a quick glance at the Stovie rocket gunner and the front of his helmet had been cracked. Part of the UWS was smoking, but I couldn't tell if it was his chest or his arm. The RPG had nearly hit him right in the face. It either detonated behind him, or right in front of him. I was bewhildered.

"You lame jerk. That's all you can come up with is, 'they got me!' That is so old!" Rico shouted, tongue in cheek.

"Get on your weapon, Brandon! Forget out him, he'll be fine!" Dickerson shouted at me.

I snapped out of my worry and went back to firing at the enemy. There was just a flurry of radio chatter, but apparently someone couldn't find the right net.

"What the heck's wrong with my radio? I can't hear anybody on the net!" Kell kept shouting to my right.

"You're on the wrong channel, dumbass! Go back to UHF-12!" I shouted back.

Tasha was fortunate. She wouldn't have to endure this, I thought. Then, like clockwork, a ton of artillery shells came on. The other side of the river was lit up with artillery shells. I'd forgotten we were danger close, being about 350 meters away from the enemy. As quickly as it happened, it was done. The cavalcade of fire along the line ceased. I took a deep breath as I fell back into my fighting hole. I pulled out that wrinkled picture of Dulcinea and kissed it again. It was going to be my new tradition, I thought. But if that was the case, I continued, I was going to need more pictures of my girl. A few tense minutes passed and there were no more contacts.

"I'll tell you something. They're some persistent devils alright." Micho said, right next to me. Walt had walked over to our hole, his mask off and his canteen in hand.

"What else to expect from followers of a religion where it states clearly that if they die in holy war…they go to the valleys of Elysium?" Alphonso said over the radio.

"That's some crazy stuff. And the rest of the Yukes who joined were just betting on the horse that can win, right?" Walt said.

"You don't pay attention to anything, do you?" Micho said.

Walt then looked at me. "Well, that's probably why they made Brandon an NCO. He's here because he wants to be here."

"That…and I read the damn mission brief." I said.

"Regardless, they got some fight; but, Soma should have known better to tempt the lion." Micho said, holding up his canteen. "To Power Recon, the lion of the Osean Federation."

We tapped our canteens. "Kill!"

We had survived our second combat action in ten hours. We knew that more was coming but at the time, it didn't matter. We were alive…again. Now we had to repeat the process a few dozen more times. My only question was when we were going on the offensive. Then again, we couldn't really do that until the rest of the Osean Army showed up. But I was feeling fiery. I wanted to go after the enemy right then and chase him all the way to Severja. Then…one other strange thought came into my head.

"Oh damn…I forgot to ask Seto where in the world he got those apples."

***

**Baston Wasteland**

**August 23, 2037**

**2300 hrs**

The original mission of the Recon Marines was simple: Reconnaissance. We were to go behind enemy lines and gather intelligence about the enemy, their numbers, and their movements. If necessary, we'd conduct sabotage. We'd destroy enemy positions, knock out enemy armor, deny supply routes, and even take command of enemy airfields to use against our aggressors. Force Recon was a little bit different. They'd do the same thing regular Recon units would do, but their main job was to conduct larger scale denial and sabotage missions against the enemy ahead of the main force. The first usage of Force Recon was during the Belkan War when they seized control of a Belkan installation on the border near Lake Seelow. Another famous use of Force Recon was the capture of a Yuktobanian naval installation, Tiger Naval Base, in 2010. It was the last time Force Recon was used.

By 2037, Power Recon had taken its place. Some argued that Recon had been watered down in favor of our new mission: to be Osea's shock troops. And we were certainly intimidating. The enemy was already speaking fearfully of us.

48 hours, give or take, had passed since we'd arrived in the country. By now, we'd driven the Soma to the edge of the Forest. All along the line, the news was good. Dickerson told us that the entire division had only taken 12 casualties and of them, only four Marines had been killed. First Marines out of St. Hewlett had not arrived yet. And still, 8,000 men from Power Recon had stopped the Soma's advance cold. With our stand, the Yukes finally regrouped and dropped the hammer of their army on the Sonza area, effectively driving the enemy out of the southern area of Central Highlands. We'd punched back pretty hard. In the shock, the enemy fell back. However, we were not being that aggressive. Recon advanced about 20 klicks. Our company stopped near a small, deserted town with no name and made it our home until we moved on.

The deeper into the forest we went, the more desolate it became. I wasn't sure it was possible before we left Company HQ. Even then, I saw the endless rows of dead trees and dry, cracked ground around them. The shacks had been abandoned for years. Tristan didn't need to be evacuated since the wound ended up being minor. The suit had saved him.

Alphonso was leading a Recon mission deeper into the Baston Forest. Walt and I were with him. When the LT chose us to be a Recon team, I immediately knew the whole thing was what Dickerson meant by _earning_ our new ranks and positions. Alphonso, Cameron and I had to prove we were worthy of Squad Three's leadership. We weren't the only ones on Recon. Sheck and Cameron had taken Mack and Carls, two of the FNGs, with him. It wasn't that they were a hassle, but they hadn't had the Airborne, Vehicle Assault and Naval Warfare training. That was two months of dead zone. We'd already gotten the LARAs and we were going to move with impunity when command made the decision to go on the offensive. However, we knew the enemy still had some fight left him in the forest.

For us, we were impatient. We had the _mo_, or momentum, on our side. But since we were a new division, Command was pacing about, trying to figure out what to do. At least the Recon missions were a break from sitting in a fighting hole and waiting for the enemy.

Our mission was simple. The enemy had a series of portable AA guns and SAMs they were moving back and forth between the forest and the lower Gulbina plains. We had to find it, fix it and frag them over. We _finally_ had air, but the carrier Kestrel III was so far away from the Baston area it was almost not worth wasting the bombs. We did have arty, and plenty of it. The kings of the battlefield were ready to rock their Howitzers and play a symphony of death for Soma. We just had to find the darn guns; easier said than done.

To add to the misery, there were countless bodies around the area. We couldn't immediately tell if they were loyalist or Soma. It was too dark. The wind caused the dust of the ground to blow like a sand storm at times.

"Wow, this is even worse than where we landed." I said.

"It always gets worse." Alphonso said.

Then something caught Walt's eye and he broke off from our single file to check it out.

"What are you doing? Get behind me, don't make another trail!" Alphonso hissed at Walt.

"Fine. Damn." Walt said, making his steps harder like a pouting child. I wasn't sure what he was looking for; nor did I care.

Because of our communication advantages within the UWS, we could be a little bit more relaxed about chatter between us. The enemy couldn't hear our voices from within the helmets. The reason was the SPNC (Outer Pressurization Noise Cancelling) and the system. We could hear their footsteps, but they, for the most part, couldn't hear us speak. They had to be pretty close though, within five meters.

The ground was drier than astronaut food. All around me, it wasn't so much a land of the unwelcome. It was certainly uncomfortable, but it wasn't unwelcoming _just_ for us Oseans. Everything around my mother's fairy tale was a shell of its former beauty. We were at least four miles from HQ with no luck. We hadn't talked much until we reached what was apparently a floodlight in the trees. We had to shut off our NVGs because it was blinding us.

We were near a rise in the hill, with mutilated, decaying Soma bodies around, victims of our cluster artillery. Thank god we had our helmets on. We were going to shut off the light after making sure no enemy was around. But before we did…I noticed one of the bodies had a strange uniform on. I looked around the bodies…and all of them had the same thing on.

"What kind of uniforms are these?" I asked.

The uniforms were odd. We knew that the Soma tended to use beige uniforms. However, the ones we saw were black and gray trim. Nothing in the briefs we had mentioned black and gray suits. Not even the officers had them.

"Forget it. Well check them later." Alphonso said. He turned off the light.

"By the way, you never did tell me where you met Kate. You remember? We got cut off mid-conversation yesterday by those enemy gun trucks on the western road."

"If we live, I'll tell you." Alphonso said, caustically.

"This is the guy who got his stripes doubled up…bringing up wives on a Recon mission. You know that's a no-no. Too bad the Soma can't hear us." Walt said. He was almost laughing.

"Well, I wasn't alone. Remember Langley and Markie in Vampire Company? They got doubled up to Corporal too. Polaski, Cayman and Walton in Raptor got doubled up." I said.

"If you two don't shut up…" he said at us. I swore I heard him chuckle a bit though.

We had our first true Recon mission…and we weren't going to muck it up, Walt's company notwithstanding. Alphonso, for his entire bible thumping routine, was a pretty good squad leader. I knew this even in the ruthless world of Recon School. RS was a brutal place. You were always fighting for a spot. Even well respected guys didn't catch a break. Sheck was in the instructor's doghouse more me, Walt or Eric. And we were the ones who _made_ Recon.

To survive Recon, you had to be bastard. I wasn't perfect. I did do some things to other trainees that if my parents, the Razgriz Demons themselves, Kei Nagase or David Lovecraft, ever found out…they'd throw up in their mouths. Tasha would be horrified. And yet, it was accepted. I planted things, I screwed with people's rooms, I trash talked other guys, and I wasn't even the worst. I could never imagine my mother planting porno and other contraband in her wingmate's room during training. I could never imagine my father taking a chair to his roommate's head for no reason at all. Although in that case, _my_ head was the recipient of the chair.

You had to be willing to screw people over, especially in the early phases. You had to want to kill your enemy. You had to be willing to go over forty eight hours without sleeping and do thirty mile marches in full gear. You had to risk broken bones and brush off injuries that most people would find debilitating. You had to be smart and know what to do and when to do it. The instructors starved us, beat us…they basically treated us like dogs just for the _chance_ to be Recon-worthy. Every day at formation and during the long runs, we'd shout our cadences; we were trained say "Kill!" and like it. We were cold, wet, muddy, and sandy every day…even during the classroom phase.

But despite all the backbiting and the evil, manipulative things we did to get other guys kicked out, in addition to getting our buddies out of trouble…was to have the _will_ to do that. The will and the passion was everything.

That's what made men like Alphonso so unique. He was above all that. He would have been perfect in the sniper corps with his considerable skills and incredible attention to detail, not to mention his elephant-like memory. I wouldn't have made it. Despite my excellent vision, I was sometimes lax with the whole application of attention to detail.

"We're running out of time. We got thirty more minutes." our leader said.

We did have a timetable for our mission. We'd spent just over three hours looking for these damn AA guns. I really thought we'd _wasted_ three hours crawling through this seemingly endless brush and death for an enemy that had slipped away in the night.

We climbed up the hill and then we heard the sound; the sound of booms typical of AA fire. We hit the deck instant and crawled to the top of the hill. Walt was to my left and Alphonso was in the lead.

"Up ahead." Our religious friend said, zooming in his NVGs. I did the same and saw the movement down there. There they were, at the bottom of a clearing in the woods…if you could even call it a forest anymore. At this point, everything was a clearing. The only things that were alive were us and the enemy. But that was about to change in a _hurry_.

Alphonso clicked on his radio. "Romeo Hotel to Werewolf Beta One. We are in position."

We were originally on the UHF Secure 102 channel, a special one for inter-squad communications. If another party wanted us, a light came on and we switched the channel. Now we were on UHF Secure 122, a direct link to command.

"Roger. Give me a sitrep." Lieutenant Dickerson said.

We engaged the TAC and listed the coordinates. The benefit of TAC was that it could calculate distance and position relative to enemy locations for us. It was almost too easy. In the past, you had to actually figure this out by hand or use designators. The only problem was that none of the other units in the four Marine Divisions other than us had TAC. Thus location targeting had to be done, for the most part, the old fashioned way. And in a way, we were already doing it. We couldn't call for artillery fire mission ourselves. We had to inform the Lieutenant of the enemy position then he moved it up the chain or through the right channels, however the heck it worked; although, I never understood why they called it a _fire mission_. It was an _artillery strike_; _fire mission _was just some euphemism.

"Location Grid 24. Twelve foot mobiles spotted at range 655. Report four possible SA-37s in the area and they're hidden under brush and camo netting. Point 45-X142N. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Romeo. Air is all tied down in the Bastok area. Stand by for fire mission."

"Roger."

We were over 650 meters out, more than enough to avoid a danger close strike. We kept our eyes on the target while Dickerson did whatever he was doing to get us our fire mission. Alphonso had lowered the shield on his helmet to use the special scopes and observe the enemy position.

"Speaking of being tied down," Walt started, "I forgot to make this point about your girlfriend Alf."

"And what this that?" Alphonso said, his eyes focused on the target.

"I'll say this. She's kinda pretty. But she has that…skinny-fat thing going on."

"Really? What does that mean?" I said.

"What I mean is, she's attractive…but you know Kate's got this weird body shape. She's thin at the top, nice rack…"

"Walter…" Alphonso said. If I could have seen his face, he'd have been blushing.

"Dude, have a sense of humor for once. Okay, she's got a nice set. But her thighs…they're not cutting it, man. Her thighs are just entirely too fat for her body shape. It makes her butt stick out a little farther than it needs to."

Alphonso was silent for a few seconds. Why was Walt changing his tune? Walt was a firm believer that women should only cook, clean and take care of the kids. After all, he was nearly put in jail for wailing on his sister. I knew why Walt was the way he was to some degree. After his mother died, his first foster father was a real blockhead, abusive woman hater. And it was no surprise that he beat his wife to death with a frying pan and stabbed her eight times over an argument over who would do the dishes.

"I mean, at least Brandon's got the common sense to get a fully thin girl. But you chose the one for her personality…which means she's carrying those chunky thighs into her thirties."

Alphonso cut him off. "I detest her mother. She's the reason her self-esteem is up and down. When I proposed to her, Kate drove us to her parent's house. Her mom was drunk and called her fat right in front of me. She cried all night. I felt bad because I had the Darby Queen run the next morning. I felt like crying too. I felt horrible for her."

"I remember that. Bob and Craig got wrecked on the monkey bars." Walt said, referencing the team based obstacle course we all did in Recon Training.

The Sapinian continued, "When I got home she was eating a gallon of ice cream. I think that's where it came from. She always eats a lot when she gets depressed. She's trying to burn it off now. "

"But you're in a war. I'm sure she's pigging out right now. She's like Brandon's folks. They're all anti war and what not." Walt noted.

"Well, I tried to comfort her. I told her I _do_ like her look. After all Walt, real women have curves." he said with a smile so big if he got shot, he'd still be smirking. He turned to me. "Now that I think about it…Brandon, is it true about your parents?"

I was caught flat. I knew exactly what he was talking about. "I can't say anything."

"I'll make you a deal. You tell me if it's true and I'll tell you where I met Kate. Deal?"

"It was Micho wasn't it? If it was, are you really asking me what I think you're asking me?"

"Micho has such a big mouth. You and Walt…all three of you are just a bunch of spitfires." Al responded.

He often complained about Micho who had his own tendency to shoot his mouth off. Micho claimed that Kate had pictures of herself in her underwear on a social networking site. However, Micho was drunk when he said that and there was no time Micho lied more than when he was plastered.

"I promise I won't name names or get specific. I'm not telling a soul. Is it true?"

The LT interrupted us. "Werewolf Beta One to Romeo Hotel. Fire mission confirmed. Stand by for strike in five mikes."

"Roger. Standing by."

"Five minutes…" I said quietly, "Okay, you want the answer? Y…"

Then, God decided to throw rocks down from heaven…and smash the enemy position into a series of dust clouds. The blasts blinded us initially. Metal and bodies flew everywhere as black explosions crushed the ground beneath our hill. The violence of the action was equal to the shock inside each of our heads. Walt was quietly celebrating the blasts. He wasn't pumping his fist, but he probably was doing it in his head. Alphonso was speechless as me, until he got back on the radio. The bursts quieted and there was nothing but smoke and chunks of bodies around.

"Romeo Hotel to Werewolf Beta One. Big thanks to the arty guys. A bit early, but rounds are on target, over."

"Uh…the Suicide didn't confirm the strike! What rounds are you talking about?"

"Beta One…you didn't fire those?! What the hell?" Alphonso replied.

"This just gets weirder and weirder." Walt said. His eyes were wide as a bug's.

"Was it that G1?" I asked.

"Stand by…stand by…negative. It was the LEO. Apparently, they had a team in the area and beat us too it. Loyalist artillery." Dickersons said. He obviously sounded disappointed.

I sunk my face into the ground, the protective glass shield hitting the dirt. I pulled my head up and wiped the dirt off my screen.

"Are you kidding me?" I said.

"Roger. Target destroyed. All foot mobiles down. No other confirmed enemy contact." Alphonso said. His voice sounded exhausted.

"Copy, Romeo Hotel. RTB."

"Roger that. Romeo Hotel, out."

We pulled ourselves off the hill a bit slower than we probably should have. There was no telling if there were any enemies behind us. It was only after a few minutes of laziness that we decided to get butts on the move.

"Man, I didn't even get to shoot anything. If I'm going to be forced into the Corps, I might as well get to blow something up." Walt said, discouraged.

Alphonso stopped and put his hand on Walt's shoulder. "Brother, as the Word says, just because we are not used does not mean we are unneeded."

"Did the Word also say, kill them all and let God sort 'em out?" I said.

"Only in your mind, kid." Alphonso said, laughing it off. There were times I forgot that Alphonso was five years older than us. He'd been in the Corps since he was eighteen. Alphonso was a classic lifer. But before Recon, all I knew about Alphonso was that he was a two year member of the 1st Marines' 124th Military Police Company. I saw why he'd be a little impatient with us. But then again, we were all virgin soldiers. We were all kids in a sense...with weapons of mass destruction.

Just as we began crossing back into familiar territory, TAC picked up friendly movement. But before we could react…a trio of figures ran out of the woods near us. We had little depth perception because of the NVGs we were wearing, but TAC had recognized the threat, or lack thereof, in time. Although, as I turned, I found myself accosted by the fast talking Suzie!

"Surprise!" she said. However, she wasn't quite as doped up today. I then saw the black apparatus over her eyes. "I'm almost blind as a bitch in these NV goggles!"

"What the…" I stammered.

"Say hello, Tatiana! Uai, show 'em your new set up!" Suzie continued.

The blonde haired girl walked up to me. "Hey! You like my new outfit. We jacked this stuff from an Soma H&S company yesterday!"

"Shut up! Be quiet!" Alphonso hissed from. I opened the glass as I approached Suzie.

"Where the hell did you come from?!" I asked quietly.

"Did you like our fireworks?" she said. I could see her beaming smile, even under the NVGs.

"That was _you_ guys?" Walt asked, shocked.

"Oh yeah…we _totally_ kicked their asses! They won't be shooting down our planes anytime soon." Tatiana said, her voice a bit deeper and even less excited than Suzie's.

"How did you guys call it in?" Alphonso asked.

"We used this laser designator and one of our UAV's sent it to our soldiers." Tatiana said.

_Unbelievable_, I thought. They, a bunch of Yuke kids, had _UAVs_ at their disposal and we only just had air cover for not even two days.

"We just didn't think you were in the area." Uai said.

"Amazing. We come to Yuktobania to have our thunder stolen by a bunch of kids." I said.

"Last I checked…we were just like these people. Young, fiery and immature." Alphonso said, "Come on. Let's go. Romeo Hotel to Werewolf Beta One, we've made contact with LEO elements. We're Oscar Mike."

"Romeo Hotel, this Werewolf Alpha. You better haul ass Hotel. All Recon Units be advised, TAC's picked up a pair of fast movers in the air heading for your area! Probably Migs. Move it!" Captain Morrison said.

"Roger sir, we're hauling." Alphonso said. I could clearly see his blood freeze by the way his body moved. Religion or no religion, he knew the only thing we could do was run. He'd not have Kate being given that sad letter because of a Mig's bomb attack. Then, we heard the distant sounds. No one had to be told what to do next…but typical Suzie…

"Oh, hell! Strike Flankers! Everyone run!" Suzie cried.

It was irony in its finest. 27 years ago, my parents and Walt's father terrorized the ground troops from above. Now nearly three decades later, the children of the Razgriz were on the ground and _we_ were running while _we_ were being terrorized by air planes from above.

"So much for air power!" Walt screamed.

We continued to the south as we fought our way through dead brush to get back our lines. For once, I was actually thankful this place was dead and gone. Not much to sift through.

However…we weren't fast enough. The screams from the air and the roar of the engines were deafening. Perhaps we should have saved one of those AA guns…just to cover our six. The roar of a lion and the burst of the dead earth shook us all to our core. The bomb blew up some fifty yards behind us…but whoever dropped that bomb was either a Sierra Hotel pilot or a pretty powerful bomb.

"Werewolf Beta to Romeo Hotel and Lima teams. Sitrep, over."

I had been tossed to the ground; my helmet was scratched, but not cracked. I got up and Alphonso and Walt were okay. They were no doubt covered with dirt.

"This is Romeo Hotel to Werewolf Beta. We're still alive. We're checking on the LEO, ETA to Oscar Mike to follow."

"Roger, Hotel. Lima's made it back to base. RTB." Dickerson said.

Sheck's team was alright. I heard the other two breathe a sigh of relief along with me. Then…the horror.

"Uai!" I heard someone scream.

We ran over and saw Suzie and Tatiana crouched over the body of their friend. I couldn't see Uai's entire form, but it was clear he wasn't breathing at all. Then I really saw him. He was missing both his legs. I could only sit there and watch Suzie; the same badass, fast talking Soma Tank killing Suzie sob like an infant. The same Suzie was bragging about blowing up enemy tanks with a remote control and taking their clothes on a fashion show just two days ago. Now, she was just a sixteen year old orphan carrying a gun all alone in a dead forest.

Then I remembered that all I could see was Tasha in her face. The same acerbic, charismatic Tasha was in her eyes. Could that be my sister when she comes here…crying over some dead comrade's body. Or worse, maybe she'd be the one perforated by shrapnel and dying. Uai would become yet another forgotten child in a sea of forgotten people. Had Sueltana become forgotten? Had Jakob? Lucy? Had they too been cast into the wind of anonymity and indifference?

"Leave me alone. Just go." Suzie struggled to say. "I'll take care of this. You guys get back to your HQ. Tatiana, you go with them. I've got nowhere else."

"Look, let's go. It wasn't your fault. Come on, sister. There's no time for last rites now." Alphonso said.

Suzie picked up the shattered body of Uai and we began to make our way back south. It was deathly silent as we continued on. As we slowly walked away I could barely form words, "Tasha, where are you? Dulcinea…why is this happening?"

We walked into the same clearing and I saw the old path where we branched off into enemy land. Walt stopped. "Dude, look down…it's those weird uniforms again. They were the same near the hill."

Walt was not known for his attention to detail, but this time…the lining, the strange insignia…

"Holy hell!" Tatiana screeched. She picked up the uniform, and then dropped it like it was hot iron.

"You know about these?" Alphonso asked.

"Codaka Muhuda! Codaka Muhuda!" the girl said. She was acting horrified, but Suzie was listless.

"What?!" I shouted.

Suzie spoke. Her voice was sad and almost listless. No stimulants his time. "These uniforms belong to soldiers…under command of the Codaka Muhuda. They were death squads that came into Severja. The elite troops of the Soma…"

"Oh, no…" Alphonso and I said in unison. I knew…right away, I knew. The Sapinian and I looked at each other under our sea green sight of the NVGs.

"The Dogmen…" I said.

Next Chapter: Ghostville


	6. Ghostville

Note: Had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I'm thinking about having more Tasha narrated chapters than I originally planned. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Ghostville

_**Tasha**_

**OFS Reno**

**154th Transportation Company, 3/5 (Third Battalion, Fifth Regiment), 1st Marine Division**

**August 26, 2037**

**1340 hrs**

We called this place Ghostville. This old, rust bucket of a ship had been our home for a little too long. It had been seven days. Seven days of waiting. My brother's Division was the first to touch boots in Yuktobania. Brandon, his buddies and the division, had been alone for seven days of bitter fighting in a forest that wasn't a forest. It was more like a desert surrounded by dead trees.

Seven days of me watching the news helpless as my twin brother was getting his hands and fingers bloodied in the twisted remains of Yuktobania's slow death. I knew my parents were losing even more of their hair over us, but Brandon and I chose this path together.

"…_for the last 96 hours, Osean Marines, supported by the Osean Army's 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, have been battling the Soma Party's armies in the Baston-Western Dresdene region. Initial reports indicate that the Soma's soldiers are being pushed back into the Southern Sonza and Southern Gublina regions. However, currently there are reports of stiffening resistance by the Yuktobanian Soma Group's elite Codaka Army Division deeply entrenched in the Lower and Higher Gublina Regions with areas of heavy concentration around the ruined city of Severja… _

"…_Severja is long believed to be the initial area of the wide spread deforestation and drought now being called, "The Sever Effect", by Allied scientists..."_

"…_Marine's elite Power Recon Division has continued to trade blows with the Gublina's Soma defenders for the past 24 hours. However, it appears that both sides are in stalemate. Reports indicate that despite intense fighting, the Recon soldiers have amazingly suffered only 17 combat casualties with five fatalities…"_

"…_after a bizarre series of delays due to weather and mechanical failures, the Osean Army is now mobilizing for its second invasion of Yuktobania in nearly thirty years being led by Osean First Marine Division…"_

I couldn't watch the television anymore. I got up and walked away from my company mates who were focused intently on something I'd heard a million times. We were only just two hours from touching down into that land of the unknown: Yuktobania. Actually, it wasn't so much unknown as it was unexpected. We'd heard everything our friends, the media, and families had to say about that land.

My brother joined the brand, spanking new Power Recon Marines under this fantastical idea of total battlefield control through advanced military technology. Brandon was not a deluded person, but as I languished aboard an antique light carrier, I thought that if at any point the idea such a modus operandi was possible…I think my twin bro needed to have his head examined.

Total Battlefield Control?

If that was possible, where was such a drug to make one that delusional? I would have bought it in a heartbeat. I guessed at the time only meant Power Recon believed that. Judging from our struggles trying to _get_ to Yuktobania, much less actually _getting out_ of freaking St. Hewlett Naval Base's ports…

President Shelley's so-called Mercurial Doctrine was proved to be one big pile of crap in a few days. Okay, well…maybe it wasn't her fault that several carriers and ships, all transporting the 1st Marine Division had catastrophic engine failures the same day. The regular Army? There was no point asking. Meanwhile, Power Recon was fighting the war almost by itself. First Marines were supposed have boots on the ground days ago.

I didn't begrudge my brother for his choice. I didn't even begrudge my boyfriend for his choice.

After months of being in this company, I'd accepted that the transportation companies were about as far as I'd get. When I was a girl, I dreamed of being the warrior angels in the stories my mother would read me. However, harsh reality set in when women still couldn't get front line duty.

But over time, I knew it really was my brother's dream all along and I was just along for the ride. That's the way I was. I was just the last seat on the rollercoaster going through the ups and downs of life. No matter where the ride took us, my twin was always there beside me. However, most of the time…it was Brandon taking the lead. He'd take the initiative in everything. All this despite his suspect attention span, his usage of sharp tongue at inappropriate times (which I myself was guilty of as well), a hot and cold sense of attention to detail, and the brash, arrogant way he often conducted his life.

…and so it went, but I loved him for it and that's why I followed him; I followed his lead because despite the faults he was almost always convinced he was right. In a way, Rico was the same. Both were pretty headstrong guys. I loved them both. I knew I was in love with Rico from the moment I saw him. No one was going to convince me otherwise.

I was on this stupid ship to do a duty only a few would choose to perform. I wasn't complaining about having to go to war, even though I initially thought about why we were in this war in the first place.

The soldier's job is to fight and do his or her duty in whatever fashion they are able; period dot, as my father would say.

I wasn't sure why they called our ship the Reno. It was a boring city actually. There was nothing to do in Reno outside go those ridiculous air shows they have there. Las Vegas was the palace to be. It was too bad I couldn't go to Vegas, but it was better than being in Reno.

As we floated along the Western current of the Ceres and sat in the company area waiting on the first briefing in a series of long, boring meetings, I realized I would have been better off in Vegas. This place wasn't even the primer type of light carrier. It was a Rutherford class, one of the oldest models. It was funny. My brother and boyfriend got a super advanced suit to wear into battle, which I was convinced was made out plastic and fabric. They were in an elite company of the best jarheads in the Osean Federation.

Meanwhile, I was in some old light carrier from the eighties with a transportation company. I had a clueless prick for a platoon leader, a bunch of jerks for squad mates and most of the company's good NCOs and officers weren't in my unit.

I was unlucky as a broken mirror on the ground.

I walked through the crowd and back down to the dorm area. Or at least, I was until being waylaid by Corporal Charles Ellerbe, our team leader. Charles was an interesting man. He had a bit of a narrow face, and he looked slightly older than he actually was. He was a slight late comer at 24. However, deep down, I knew what made him look the way he did. Charles' lazy, dark green eyes and wrinkled forehead, along with his celebrity thin body betrayed the few scars of a failed Power Recon student. He'd washed out of the program just five weeks into it, if that. My other partner in the Humvee Guard vehicle we drove, Lance Corporal Jason Moore, knew most of the truths about Charles. The husky, light mustached Jason sat on the other side of the TV area.

Few had asked Jason and Charles about their experience in Recon school. Charles considered our company his punishment for failing to make the elite unit. However, most of Charles' problems were self-induced. After all, he'd been the only person in the entire division to flunk out of Power Recon, BUDs for the Navy Seals, Sniper School, the 1st MEF, in just twelve months. He never discussed why, however. I knew Jason knew the truth since he'd been kicked out of RS as well.

"Hello." He said.

"Charles." I responded.

We saw our platoon leader, Lieutenant Finch, walking through the throng of people in the company area with a few maps and a clipboard. I hated that clipboard. Finch looked like a guy who belonged in middle management. He'd be perfect in a white shirt and black tie with those squinty black-charcoal eyes and enlarged forehead. He didn't have quite the personality of someone who'd work in my mother's office. Finch was a firebrand those days. Word around the company was that his wife was leaving him. If his attitude around us during the last few months was any mark of his attitude around his family, I could see why his wife would walk out on him.

"God, I _hate_ that guy." Charles said. We were leaning on a pipe near the bulkhead. "You remember how he screwed up the night run last week?" Charles asked.

I didn't see her come next to me but as I looked left, I found myself looking _up_. Next to me was the giantess from Rutherford, Corporal Xanthia King. Xanthia was a thin six feet and an inch of dark eyes and gold chocolate skin. She had something in that black hair, some kind of strange glint. It made me wish I had my own hair back. It made me wish I could go back in time and kick the living crap out of PFC Moron Jones who was playing with a blowtorch while flammable gas was in the air. It was ironic that he'd be spending the war he wanted badly in the hospital with third degree burns. Meanwhile, a certain Tasha Black had to have her head shaved because the idiot.

Though, Xanthia certainly wasn't stupid. Charles may have led the team, I may have been the driver, Jason may have been the fifty cal gunner, but Xanthia was the backbone of our team. She was probably the smartest person in the company next to Lieutenant Carlton. She was the radio savant of the company, a talent indicative of all the time she spent at her father's job at the WFEX Radio Station in R-Town, her slang for the Osean cultural hole known as Rutherford. Her drawn out tone and inner city talk betrayed the fact she was the best RTO in the company.

As the borderland city to the Belkan outskirts, Rutherford was a rough place to grow up. It was reflected in the attitude of the people who grew up there. They didn't take crap from anyone. However, her looks were completely different from most city folk since it was pretty cold all the time. She was the one who gave me the nickname "Librarian". My black glasses were the first thing she saw; not my beautiful eyes or skin, flared nostrils or my humble endowment. No…it was the freaking glasses. Could she have been more cliché?

"What's up, girl?" she asked me while we bumped knuckles.

"What's up?" I replied.

"Sorry to cut in, but yeah. That idiot taped up his windows to keep the light from his equipment hidden. But then we missed the turn because dumbass Finch couldn't see out the goddamn truck!" she said.

"Jesus Christ." I said. It was all I say.

Xanthia pointed at Finch with her pinky. "He thinks he's better than everybody else. It's ironic for a guy who comes from R-Town. This guy is just pathetic Caucasian trash who used to live on Ten Mile and now he's all Mr. Big Shot."

"You don't have any room to talk Zanne, _you_ didn't even come from Ten Mile. You just hung out there like a poser trying to be cool. You weren't even on _Four_ Mile." Charles said, walking over to her position.

Xanthia shifted her weight and hawed. I started laughing. "Well…I…I was on Two and Half mile, but that's beside the point…"

"Speaking of which…Zanne," Charles said while nudging her in the arm with his elbow, "I got us a new song."

"God help us." I said, shaking my head. It was obvious that our group was meant to be together. All we did on the downtime and during the long hours of driving we did was sing. Hence it was no surprise we'd spent most of the free time practicing our horrible renditions of the popular tunes and driving everyone in the company nuts in the process.

"It should be good this time." Charles assured.

"Ugh, I sense this will not end well, but go ahead." I said.

"Are you guys going to sing _again_? I'll be glad to get into Yuktobania and be in my own truck and I don't have to hear you guys murdering cats with your vocal cords." Lance Corporal Mercier said while sitting on a stool near the TV.

Xanthia countered, "Isn't there a weak-ass soccer match on, Merci? Get the hell on somewhere."

Mercier winced. He was a new guy in the unit, an immigrant from Erusea. He wasn't used to insult heavy, tongue in cheek way we went about our business. Charles continued, "Yeah, I guarantee that Miss-I-Claim-To-Be-From-Detroit-District-and-R-Town-When-I-Lived-Twenty-Miles-Away-With-A-White-Family Zanne King will like it."

Charles started to beatbox, which was always felt rather embarrassing for Zanne…although it was funny as hell.

At first.

Charles began his singing, "In the dark of night, I see the girl in all silk. Her skin the color of milk and she screams like she's seen a ghost. She screams for some other man's name. Her skin is like flame, her voice cursing my name; she's begging me to stop…"

Then he wisely stopped, when he saw everyone in the company area looked at him with jaws going through the floor.

"Stop right there. Get out of your mental jalopy and burn your driver's license." I said, stealing one of Charles' sayings.

"What? It's an R&B song. It's about this guy going over to his girlfriend's house and she's a virgin…" Charles tried to defend.

Xanthia walked over to him. "Umm…have you paid attention to the words in that song? It's about a guy breaking into girl's house and raping her. Yeah, it's R&B alright: Rape and Battery."

Then, as I was unusually offended…Xanthia started to laugh and pushed Charles playfully. I thought it was strange, since R&B was _her_ favorite kind of music after all.

"Dude," Xanthia continued, "You are stupid as hell! Like the Yukes really want to hear you singing about defiling women."

I imagined my dad would have been arching an eyebrow or two if he heard that song. My father was as man of few words and every word he said, he made it count. He was a soldier too, an ace fighter pilot. But the company he had in Wardog was much different than now. I was an enlisted woman, struggling to make her own way in a unit dominated by men who for the most part, and thankfully, treated us as equals. Of course, most of us weren't as educated as the officers in my parent's squadron. We were the remnants of our generation's _Teenage Wasteland_ who used curse words like commas and insulted officers behind our backs. My brother, a part of a so-called elite unit, was no different. If our antics and friendships were any mark of our maturity level…we _truly were_ no different from people like Corporal Ellerbe, who was skilled in his own right. With that, I cracked up too.

"That's something Walt in my bro's unit would sing." I tacked on. "What is happening to Osean music these days?"

We all laughed, except for Charles. We forgot the pictures on the news. We laughed because it was our moment of good time in the face of all the terror that was going on overseas. For nearly five days, two of the three most important men in my life were fighting a relentless enemy. But they were an elite unit. Their suits, just stronger than Kevlar but lighter than regular body armor, they could withstand the constant punishment of frontline duty against mechanized foes with no fear at all. My concern was for everyone else having to fight this same enemy. Power Recon was just 8,000. The rest of the Corps was going to have to pick up the rest. Not to mention the regular army.

"Songs like that make be glad my baby's dad ain't around no more." Zanne said, shaking her head and her smile dropping into a frown.

"All battalion units, this is Taurus, all personnel are to report immediately to your company areas. That is all." The PA boomed, Taurus being the callsign of Battalion Command. It seemed repetitive on its face, but we knew what it really meant. Our final briefings were soon. That meant only one...more obvious thing.

"The shit is _on_ now." Xanthia said. We all tapped knuckles.

"Come on, you three. Stop hanging around with your asses in the air! Let's get a move on! We're not getting paid by the hour! Let's go!" 1st Sergeant Davis shouted at us.

We shook our heads and made our way to the briefing room, which was just a series of gray, cold rooms and one rusty mini auditorium with narrow chairs. While I walked, I thought that while the raven haired, grizzled, creepy uncle looking First Sergeant's intentions were good, he sounded like he'd watched _way_ too many war movies. His voice sounded more like the old school drill sergeant than anything else. His attitude and his style, yet again, while well intentioned, seemed rather…out of place for 2037.

We said nothing else and walked into the uncomfortable meeting rooms. For whatever reason, we were meeting in platoons. This was strange for a Captain Wells-run company. Usually, he liked to address everyone as whole, which is generally the way things were done. Instead, we had to listen to master motivator himself…Lieutenant Finch. Near him were Lieutenants Carlton and Wade from other Company staff, strange…since both Carlton and Wade outranked him, but for some reason Wells put 2nd Finch in charge of us Echo Company peons.

I heard Xanthia and Charles groan but neither could be heard by anyone important. Finch began his usual 954 page multicolored mission brief on the hologram projector.

"Okay, listen up. We have some new developments about the situation in Yuktobania." Finch started. "Honestly, most of this stuff…I could or less about. That is, of course, unless it concerns us." He began. "We're offloading at Tiger Naval Base and hauling ass to Bethlehem Park. These supplies are going straight to the Power Recon. Now, there's been a major change in the cargo. Apparently, our platoon is also hauling some special packages for the Recon companies straight from the Hepatea…whatever Corporation."

"Hephaestus, sir." Sergeant Maris, the assistant platoon leader said correctly.

"Did I ask you to correct me Sergeant?" Finch said.

"No sir, I was merely…" Maris responded.

Finch continued, "Enough. Now, this stuff is extremely important. We don't know what it is and don't bother asking. This is CENTCOM mandated, Sigma level clearance stuff. I'm sure none of you are smart enough to understand what that means and to that, let be bring this down to kindergarten level. Classified stuff…meaning you don't even _look_ at it unless you're offloading it. And even then, you don't touch it any longer than you have to."

I wasn't sure which part to be pissed off about. Finch telling off Maris for petty stuff was one thing and it wasn't anything new. But now we had some knew stuff to deliver? First off, how did all the cargo get changed overnight? Our team, Team 4, had been chosen to drive the lead Humvee instead the truck we usually did. The convoy consisted of guard Humvees and several groups of trucks. Each truck had either a two or four man (or woman in some cases) team depending on whether they were either driving the older Mammoth V1 or the Mustang V45. Unlike my brother's fancy LARAs, our trucks, despite being newer models, still felt like we hadn't progressed since the _Belkan War_.

But him laying into Maris was why everyone hated Finch. We were all adults being treated like kids because he had a yellow bar and I was just some lowly Lance Corporal. When he said that, I could only think that I'd like to see him talk to Dietrich Sheckenhousen of Recon that way and see if it flew. Of course, my brother had goddamn exemplars for officers. I did begrudge him a _little_ in that regard. Finch showed us the Area of Operations (AO) maps.

"The highway we're using is firmly in Allied hands until we cross the magic line into the southern Dresdene. Then it's up for grabs until BP. The area between Dresdene and Baston is heavily damaged by whatever the hell is killing all the vegetation and animals over there. Recon's been fighting the Soma for the past few days and the enemy's been playing tough. However, Recon and the few Yuke Loyalist Divisions have pushed the salient of the enemy almost completely back into Gublina and Sonza by _themselves_. They're still getting stragglers in the rear, so don't assume anything is secured until we get to Bethlehem Park."

"Now, gunners…the ROE has changed a little bit. Once we cross the magic line out and until we're back into Bethlehem Park, everything with a weapon in the salient is considered hostile. All of Power Recon's frontline units have moved up into the Baston Forest's Corsni Canyon, 50 klicks north of the Bayori Ridge. When we get to the doubt area, you see anyone with a weapon, you light them up."

"Now, drivers…if a vehicle is down, you keep going. No one stops for anything. The rear security will deal with it. Fox Company's trucks will be on point, then us in Echo and Delta in behind."

"One more thing of note, I understand that some of you have relatives over there," he said. "Some of them are among the civilian population, others in the White Rose, that kind of thing. And you same people are under this impression we're coming to help these people. Let me disabuse you of that notion right now. We are _not_ here to help these people. We're here to get the supplies Recon and future Marine units need to keep this fight up so we can all get home alive. Forget these people. The Yukes brought this problem on themselves. Communist bastards."

If I had a mirror, my face would have been purple. I saw the shocked looks from around the room. Some of them even turned a sympathetic eye towards me. I know Jackson and Swofford had eyes back on me. Everyone in the company knew that my sister Sueltana was missing in Yuktobania and my brother and my boyfriend were in Recon. And I wasn't even the only one who did have someone in Yuke-land, as my brother would say. I knew Holsey's mother was with those White Rose aid workers. It was a backhanded slap in my face. I knew his comment was directed at me and only me though. Either that, or Finch really was that clueless. All the people in the company from the Western side of the Ceres were in 2nd and 3rd Platoon. I started breathing heavy and my teeth were scratching. _How could he say something like that?_ I damn near lost control. And typically whip smart Carlton reacted, probably having seen my angry face.

"Okay, Don…that's enough." Lieutenant Carlton said.

We all missed having Carlton as our platoon leader. Carlton was moved over to the S-2 position after the original S-2, Captain Wells, was promoted to our Company Commander. Usually, you never saw the S-2 much, and that's what made Wells and Carlton special. They often maintained constant communication with team and platoon leaders. Most important of all, they were smart enough to know the environment of the company. Carlton would have _never_ said what Finch said about the people in Yuktobania. And after all, _1st_ Carlton did have a stripe advantage on _2nd_ Lieutenant Finch.

Finch and Carlton looked alike, but you couldn't tell from the way they acted. If Finch was the overbearing middle management guy, Carlton was the charismatic, wise and sharply dressed supervisor who was involved in everyone's work life. Carlton spoke in a quick tone, almost as if his tongue and mouth were constantly lubricated.

"Listen carefully. I know some of you have concerns about telling the Loyalists and Soma apart. The Soma's soldiers are mostly, from a racial standpoint, Jaair or Hazri Yukes; desert people from Jilachi or the Northern Highlands. They wear beige uniforms and are mostly sticking to antiquated weapons of the AK design with Uzis, and FAMAS rifles thrown in. The Loyalists are using the weapons we're phasing out: M-4s, 203s original X-8s, M-249 SAWs, and P90s. These Soma cats love using artillery, mostly mortars. But generally speaking, they can't shoot the broadside of Kansas. They're IED heavy and they use booby traps…old-fashioned spider holes, grenade traps," Carlton said, "Now, originally, we were scheduled to be in MOPP posture once we settled into Bethlehem Park. However, that has been changed. We will be in MOPP-2 posture the entire time we're in country until the Soma's troops have been pushed fairly deep into Yuktobania." Carlton said.

That meant wearing our NBC suits all the time. That meant us being extremely uncomfortable for a few weeks. That meant sweating like a pig in the hot sun of a ravaged Yuktobania. _Dear God_, I thought.

"Now there's been a change in call signs and challenge words. The company will now be referred as X-Ray. You guys will X-Ray Two, the leader X-Ray Two Actual." Carlton continued. This meant that Ellerbe, our truck's leader, would be X-Ray Two Four Actual. "Also, we're no longer referring to the vehicles as Canaries. We're going back to callsign Victor. The Soma's drivers often use _canary_ to reference vehicles."

"Now, Guard Teams in particular, the Rules of Engagement have now been slightly changed. Because of an unusual development with the Loyalist Army conscripting teenage soldiers, barely teens in some cases, we have to be extremely careful about who we're shooting at. But for the most part, they'll end up screening friendly movements and these kid soldiers may not be a problem later. Some of them have been issued GPS strobes that will show up with those of you who have Blue Force trackers in your trucks. Other than the kids, anything outside of friendly lines with a weapon is hostile." Lieutenant Davis said. I didn't care much about Davis. He was just another faceless officer in the company. We rarely saw him.

"And one last thing. We're going into a country that's lost a lot over the last two dozen years. These people are desperate and they'll do _anything_ to survive. Guard Teams, don't be surprised if you're shooting at people who you think are friendly. But we can't do anything more to hurt their way of life. This isn't 27 years ago. Just be careful, be smart, do your jobs, and we'll all come home alive. Any questions?"

Quiet.

"Okay, that's all for now. Get into your MOPP suits and head for the staging areas. If you need to exchange the suit for a bigger or smaller size make sure you do it now. We're rolling off this ship two and half hours." He said.

Everyone but me quickly dispersed into the hall and I looked carefully at the two officers remaining.

I watched as Carlton led Finch to the side. I decided it was out of sight until they stopped by the bulkhead at the north side of the room, a place devoid of people. However, it was close enough for me to hear their voices. It was clear Carlton didn't care if I heard. Maybe he was saying it on my behalf.

_I need to have a word with you. Finch, you're not going to offend people just because you hate the Yukes._

"Tasha?" I heard a voice say. I didn't say anything. I was still listening to the two LTs.

_We're not a charity Carlton._

_Forget that! We've got to worry about morale. This is an international unit, and we can't have officers making semi-racist remarks…_

"You're not much for sentences today?" Charles asked, tapping me on the shoulder.

"No, I'm just worried…" I started. I got caught out while thinking about everyone. Rico, my dad, my mom, my brother…

"…about your brother? Yeah, I get it." Charles picked out of my head.

I saw the face he made. I only shook my head and walked away. He trailed me into the east hall towards the dorm area. I already knew my MOPP suit fit. I had the same size as my uniform. I was going to sleep before the road trip into Hell began.

However, Charles would not leave me alone. "Is it true your brother's got some Yuke teenaged soldier following him around like a stalker?"

"Geez, you just remember everything don't you? They've got Yuke girls fighting on the lines and we're not. Oh well…what can you do?" I said, defeated, "You know what Micho's dad said though, he'd say: what does it say about our culture if we're allowing women at the most brutal point of war? Apparently, we're just supposed to be nurtured and protected."

"Isn't that what all women want? I know my wife does…sometimes a little too much." Charles said with a shrug. "I bet Rico doesn't treat you that way at all. That's why you like him."

"How _is_ your wife, by the way?" I asked off the cuff. I shouldn't have, but I figured this time Charles would come up with something different than the usual gripes about his adorable wife, Sherry.

"SOS, same old stuff. She keeps asking me when I'll be back and I keep telling her, 'Sherry…I'm in the Marine Corps. You know I'm the Madame President's speed dial.' Jesus. There are days where I'd wish she'd lose her vocal cords."

Of course, I was never that lucky. Apparently, luck was something I didn't get from my folks.

"You never change." I said. We stepped down a flight of stairs.

"Well, that's the benefit of being me. See the difference between you and me is that I know what I am."

"I'll give that and raise you with this. I know the difference between what you really are and what you claim to be." I countered.

"What's that, then?" Charles asked, stopping me.

I had a huge smile. "You're a bitter, jealous guy who is never content with the wonderful woman you have…or anything else for that matter."

Charles smirked. "Well, there is no such thing as complete contentment. It's not a good relationship if everything's perfect. My mom once said that if everything's perfect in a relationship, you're one step away from the shrink."

"Your mom drinks at eight in the morning!" I snapped back. "You know, that makes absolutely no sense. My parents have a perfect relationship. They hardly fight, they go out a lot, they have a very healthy…well…I'll let you use your imagination."

"That's a lie. What you're describing is an eighty to ninety percent good relationship. There's always conflict. You don't want that negative energy to build up. That day comes and you explode like a bomb. Next thing you know you're in the mental hospital talking to your shadow while carving names into your arm."

"Why does there always need to be conflict?" I said, "Me and Rico are different from you and Sherry. You're always complaining about her. She doesn't do this, she doesn't do that, she says this…it's old. Why do you stay with her if you hate her so much?"

"Whoa, whoa, back that train up to and let the tourists take the next one to Oured." He said with his strange colloquial, "I don't do it because I hate her. I do it because I love her."

"Really? Enlighten me." I said, crossing my arms.

"Well, good relationships are like picking a rose garden. You're going to get thorns. You're going to get some blood on your hands and it's going to hurt like a mother. Still, you shave the thorns off and you remember why you were taking the rose in the first place." He said. For once, Charles made sense.

"How very…astute of you, Charles; Rico's not perfect, but…he's pretty close. He doesn't quite get along with my brother these days. I got some Queue mail from Brandon and Rico and they've been acting real strange toward each other."

Charles then walked a bit up the hall then back in my direction. "I'm not surprised at either one of them."

"What do you mean?"

"You know the real reason I'm in this company? Your brother got me kicked out of Power Recon School."

"What?! Are you kidding me?"

"You're brother's devious piece of work. Him and Micho, you can even throw in Walter and Rico for good measure. They screwed over a lot of people in Recon School."

"Elaborate." I demanded.

"Recon school had a lot of long and short parts. Phase One was the weeding out of the weak. Phase Two was all classroom and extreme fitness work. That was where it happened…"

…and as we walked into the outside of the Company Dorm area, he went on and on in his diatribe about the retarded nature of Power Recon Training; a fact he made quite clear in his ridiculous rambling.

"…I mean, there are levels of complete retardation that need its own section in the National Retard Dictionary. I mean the retard officers were playing favorites, the NCOs were trying to undercut each other, and every day you were fighting for your spot, even on the weekends. You could come back one minute late and be dropped like that. It was _unbelievable_ how absurd it got at times."

"And my brother had something to do with this?"

"Oh, yeah. Now, I'm not saying I'm completely innocent. I did slightly start things. Maybe I shouldn't have tripped him on that three mile sprint the first day but…I was just playing around. It wasn't my fault he came in last and had to do ten pushups seconds for every second he was behind."

"How many did he have to do?"

"200." He said with a sheepish face. "He was…not too pleased with that."

I was a little shocked...then not. "Gee, I wonder why!"

"But, he just took it too far. Your brother just turned into this punk, lying, arrogant, piece of dog crap. From Day One in Recon he started acting all cocky; him and Walt, even though _they_ hated each other. Micho…hell, all three of them were the worst."

My brother could be cocky and he did do some stupid things here and there, but I refused to believe Brandon would purposely try to get someone thrown out of Recon School.

"Okay, so one of the things we had to do was the Sand Run. You had do a 10K run with the Recon Suit on plus your gun and rucksack and we had to put over 35 pounds of sand in it. We had two practice runs. On the second run, the instructors told us we weren't going to be weighed this time. I thought I'd pack a little light. I went with about 25 pounds. They weren't going to weigh it."

"Oh, I see where this is going…"

"Well, unbeknownst to me…your brother and friends thing they're all Sierra Hotel and they're running with _fifty_ pounds. We get to the end, and they're all whooping and screaming like animals. Sheck's telling them to shut up and the instructors are coming over. They want to verify that your brother did it with fifty five pounds. But then Walt thinks he's got more weight and he raises this bit about it…so they weigh all of us. I got caught."

"Oh boy…"

"They went _ballistic_. Your brother was hot. And I'm getting this bull crap speech from your lying-ass, two faced brother. I'll give you the edited verson," Charles said. He put on his best imitation of Brandon's voice. "He says, _you're doing twenty five pounds and everyone else is doing twice that? Are you bleeping kidding me? Bleep you, you rat piece of bleep. Y_ou get the point."

"Walt puts his two cents in, _I'm going to stick my foot so far up your_…" he restarted, "This was Walt, who had no business criticizing _anyone_ for lack of work ethic. I had to carry 30 pound weights _everywhere_ for the rest of the time I was there. Then a week later during regular PT, I strained my knee and my back because of all that extra weight! I got medically shipped out. Meanwhile, those lying rats are in Recon and I'm not!"

I knew from my experiences with Rico about just how highly charged and competitive Recon School was. However, I met Rico only a few weeks before it ended. Thus, I found Charles' story suspect at best. Charles, like Brandon's chum Micho, had a tendency to play up or down certain…details of a story.

"You're an idiot. You should have known better than to tempt fate with those kinds of instructors. And frankly, I find your story a bit hard to believe."

The auburn haired Jason poked his head around the corner. After a second, he showed up and pointed his finger at Charles as if he were a guilty defendant in a courtroom.

"Don't listen to him, Tasha. I've been listening to this little sob story and let me tell you something. Charles is full of shit. His story needs an edit like his wife needs to lose fifteen pounds."

"Shut up Jason!" Charles said; though I could see a smirk, as if he took some humor in the truth.

"He got kicked out because he tried to cut a hole in Brandon's bag before the run, but that dumbass cut Alphonso's bag by mistake and got caught."

"Well…someone's got some _explaining_ to do, huh?" I said, with my hands on my hips.

"You got kicked out for wailing on her brother with a folding chair! Kinda forgot that part, didn't you Jason?"

"Hey, I'm not saying he was innocent. He was real a prick in RT. He got me too. He and Micho had a bunch of candy in their lockers which was against rules. It was supposed to be in the fridge. They got word that inspection was coming up, so they hid all the candy in 2nd Platoons' lockers. That's when I got him the chair."

"Did you guys _really_ do all this stupid stuff to each other?" I asked.

"Oh, it was bad. Everybody was trying to get someone else. You got to understand, sister…Power Recon's no joke. Ten spots for seventy people in a platoon? It was _cutthroat_. Screw or screwed over. Be an ass kisser or your ass got kicked. Do…"

"We get it, Jason. Thank you for enlightening commentary. Now shut up."

"Sure thing." Jason said, disappearing into the hall.

I laughed in Charles' face. "Yeah, like I'm _really_ going to take relationship advice from a guy who can't even get his bitching stories right. You think I'm a mark or something? There's a sucker born every minute."

"Yeah, and it's you…if you think Rico's the perfect guy." He said softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Charles was silent. I became impatient. "Say it then! You're going to tell me."

His silence told me everything. What could have been imperfect about my Rico? It was strange that I'd fall in love with a guy only after a few weeks. However, it was the first time I ever truly felt this rush of emotion from one guy. I felt whole in his arms and he never flaunted his elite status over me. He was a true gentleman. _He_ wasn't perfect, but everything else about him seemed that way. Didn't that count for anything? I understood what Charles said, but wasn't it close to perfect?

Why would he not be? He wasn't a man who had two faces…was he?

Just like that, any thought of perfection flew out like a bird in November going south.

Charles looked up, crossed his arms and looked back at me. "Ah, I'll make you a deal. Tell me what you think I am, and then I'll tell you what I think of Rico."

"Okay. Since your constant complaining about your wife is actually tongue-in-cheek, I suppose I can't kill you for that. You are an excellent marksman. You're a great father. But you're a liar and an arrogant one at that. You're a bitter man who resents this company. Your massive ego is the reason for you've repeatedly failed to join the elite units. And by the way, that scope on your rifle…it makes you look like a douchebag." I concluded. I patted his cheek, "There you go. The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

Charles was frozen. His voice dropped off. "I suppose it does. You're no better than Brandon. You just love digging the knife deeper, don't you?"

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? I'm just doing it because I love you." I said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Charles snorted. "You're such an ice bitch."

"Thanks for the compliment." I replied.

"Anytime. I'll tell you what I think of Rico, if you want."

Charles had some shady history, but he knew Rico better than anyone. My breath paused as if there was lint in my throat. I just swallowed and asked the question, "So…what do you think of him?"

We finally walked down the hall and into the right area, where our dorms were. We walked a few steps before he spoke. Before he did, my world slowed to a crawl.

"Look. I'm not a good gambler, but I know Rico and I know the women he's been with. When I found out he was dating you…it kinda shocked me. A week ago, he was talking about something he did, but he never once mentioned your name. Not one. I even asked about you…and he moved on to something about your brother and some girl he's going out with."

"What?"

We reached the dorm area and in the right room was where Lawrence and Swanson were watching the news in their dorm. The female dorm for company was just down the hall from us. "When we get on the road in Yuktobania…I'll tell you a little story about your precious Rico. Like I said, I'm not a good gambler…but I'll bet the house on this. I don't think he's going to be your boyfriend for very long."

I thought I was stronger than I was. My body locked up and I couldn't move at all. I could only look at Charles' stunned face. I couldn't breathe. I needed to find a latrine where I could puke my soul out. It was exactly what I did. I only heard a little bit of the news on the television before my stomach turned inside out.

"…_in other news, the bodies of several missing White Rose aid workers were discovered by members of Osea's Power Recon Division this morning. Apparently the mysterious terrorist element of the Soma Political Movement known as the Dogmen claimed responsibility…_

Next Chapter: The Dogmen (Part I)


	7. The Dogmen: Part I

Note: This chapter gets a little hot, but I'm going to be doing some edits here and there over the next few days before I work on the second part. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: The Dogmen (Part I)

**Sera River, Outskirts of Gublina Region**

**August 26, 2037**

**1720 hrs**

I didn't know who was more intense, Rico Lazarus, Alfonso Adair, Frank Teller or the Dogmen soldiers.

We'd been mired in this ground based dogfight with the Dogmen for nearly three days. First Marines had made landfall and were pushing for BP; Bethlehem Park, as we called it. We were due to be relieved on the line by the 3/5 and the 4/5. My sister was attached to the 3/5 and that was some comfort; the operative word was _some_.

The first battles against the Dogmen divisions came when our regiment was blitzed by hundreds of infantry fighting vehicles and troops running across open ground. They fired artillery at danger close ranges and brought up tons of mortars. However, we had a wonderful equalizer: the LARAs. Using the improved nanomachine-upgraded Bushmaster guns and the new 40mm Pulse guns, we cut them down like weeds with a gardening tool. But it was not without a cost. Eric Christenson, who always had his own guesses about how long we'd be fighting, was seriously wounded when an enemy artillery round went off a few meters from him. Luckily, he was behind some cover and the rest of the shrapnel was slowed by the UWS. Some shards did perforate his screen, cut off his left ear and took a small chunk out his jaw. He was lucky to survive. If that concrete and steel embankment wasn't there, it probably would have killed him.

We made fun of the Dogmen afterwards. They were untrained amateurs posing as elite soldiers and some of the other guys often ridiculed their corpses. I knew Walt talked trash to one Dogmen scout he killed with a head shot. They attacked with a variety of unique weapons such as M14s, flamethrowers, and even sharp farming tools, javelins, etc. It was amazing to see their rush attack. It was like the _Charge of the Light Brigade_ all over again. I know I got in on the jesting. I talked to my parents and all I could mention, apart from my worries about them, Tasha and Dulcinea obviously, was my underwhelming review of the Dogmen's efforts. We had every right to be arrogant. Our 1st Regiment, the best regiment of Power Recon, the best, most well equipped soldiers in the entire Osean Marine Corps and the Military in general, went up against the best the Soma had to offer and only had 26 wounded, with no one killed in action. We wasted an entire regiment of the Soma's best troops.

Then they _really_ hit us. The Osean Army finally pulled their weight and sent the Airborne divisions to back us up. Apparently, terrible weather stopped everyone but the Marines. We advanced into the Lower Gulbina regions but 2nd Regiment was blitzed by the First and Second Dogmen Armored Divisions. The fighting was intense, but the 82nd, who led the initial assault was thrown back when they reached the city of Kazar. Massive air strikes by the enemy threw everything out of whack. Finally, Marine Air Power and Loyalist planes gave us air superiority. However, command was again hesitant about sending us into the fire.

We quickly found out the Dogmen had some fight in them after all. We endured a few IEDs and even a trio of SCUD attacks. It was nothing to worry about in hindsight. There was no doubt we were going to win. History proved that the best trained armies with the best equipment won 95 percent of the time. However, as we got closer and closer to the Dogmen divisions themselves…we learned two important things about them.

First, the enemy we'd thought we were fighting…turned out not to members of the Dogmen at all! They were special divisions thrown together to confuse us. The initial army was sent to wear us down and the true Dogmen led divisions stayed back and fought as a cohesive unit. Second, they _never_ retreated and they refused to be taken alive. All of the Dogmen soldiers were found with suicide pills made out of cheap Chloroform-Dioxin or Cyanide. We couldn't interrogate any of the survivors. Most killed themselves. and others..._we_ had to do the favor. In one case, we had the Les Enfants with us on patrol. Suzie found a wounded enemy and called us over. But the enemy quickly got up, grabbed the pistol out of the back of her pants and if wasn't for a miracle, quick draw headshot from Corporal Wash, Suzie would have been another dead Yuke in a land of dead Yukes, Soma or not.

It got bad with the enemy playing possum and we had to change tactics in a hurry. The LEO was not beholden to the North Point Convention. They just shot every wounded enemy. Brutal, but some of them were booby trapped with grenades. All that and it was just _half_ the problem. At the time, we were held in reserve just south of the Sera River, a river that looked more like a creek than a raging stream of water.

Rico, Hoot and Alphonso combined were the other problem. First, Rico was still a bit ornery about his love letter I found a day ago. I located it on the ground after a patrol into the Gulbina territory. It was a crumpled piece of paper he was working on. I looked at it and all I saw where the following words:

…_pink beads, the golden skin…your ocean eyes beneath the blue bug-eyed shades, the sun washed hair…and all I can do is say I miss you and I still love you even after I made my mistakes…_

I committed those words to memory…because none of them described Tasha. Not a one. Tasha had black hair before she had to have her head shaved, she doesn't wear rosy beads since he knows enough about my twin sis to know she's a tomboy at heart, and Tasha's eyes were brown! Tasha hated the bug-eyed sunglasses. _Who the hell was he talking about, then? _I thought long and hard…and the answer was right there in front of me! Pink beads, blue eyes, bug-eyed shades, peach skin, blonde hair…

He was describing _Dulcinea's_ features.

But the more I considered it, the more I realized that Dulcinea was merely _my_ girl out of a bunch of girls from the Sand Island area who dressed and acted the same way. They were a dime a dozen there, I just snagged one of them. In fact, most of the guys I knew had found girls or wives from SI and they all looked and acted the same save the interesting permutations of their anatomical features. Most of them just acted bubbly and carefree though. It was no trivialization of my girlfriend, but it was true.

There was one fact I knew about Rico…I didn't know that much. I only _just_ knew that Rico and Tasha were dating days ago. And that was the other major side of the issue. How would _Tasha_ receive this? I knew my sister was in love with this guy. I thought unless Tasha had split personalities or played some strange, intimate role-playing game I wasn't aware of…she would not have been pleased with this.

I knew it was someone that struck a nerve. Rico got more defensive than the front seven for the November City Warriors when I found it. He then called me all sorts of foul names before walking off, he finished by calling me a rat...the tamest of his insults.

However, judging from the words…he had not seen whoever he was describing in some time. But even though our company was in reserve for the time being, it was not quite the time to bring up old wounds like this. After all, he implied it was his fault for screwing up the relationship. But it was clear that he was with Tasha and thinking about someone else. That was the _only_ lead pipe lock of a fact I had. Whether it was Dulcinea or some other chick, it was clear that Tasha was not going to enjoy the news. I just hoped I wouldn't as well.

My thoughts were broken up when Sergeant Teller, three days removed from arriving here to shore up our company, began to complain about the weather; therein laid the next problem. We called him Hoot. He our new squad leader; this redneck, brown haired, slack jawed, country boy that most everyone loved was now back in Recon after suffering a major leg injury during a parachute jump. He had his Recon helmet off and was just soaking in the sun.

"Man, it's hotter than two fat chicks wrestling in a sauna out here." Teller said.

He was respected, but not everyone liked the fact he was here and leading squad three out of the blue. Alphonso had led us with distinction for the short time he led our squad. We thought he'd be the permanent placement. However, Hoot came in with barely any experience at all, and took command of three overnight. That wasn't to say Hoot was not capable. Sergeant Teller was always pretty good at leading people. He was a well skilled Marine and the only expert marksman in the company other than Wash, me, Welling and Cushing from Team 3, then there was Willard, Thomas from Team 2, Alphonso, Sheckenhousen and the other new guy, Private Desormeaux, who ironically found his way into our squad.

The problem was that Hoot, through the grapevine, was never a big fan of Alphonso. It didn't surprise me, because oddly enough…Alphonso was probably the most skilled, versatile, intelligent Power Recon Marines in the Battalion and he was overdue for a promotion at the time. But not a whole lot of guys liked him. He was known for his religious beliefs, bebop-like, parabolic stories and his extensive historical knowledge. However, some believed that a man like the Sapinian was not cut out to lead enlisted guys into combat. There were times where I _knew_ he let up during the fighting with the regular Soma soldiers who were retreating. However, Hoot never showed it when we were in training. That had changed when our country boy arrived.

"You're profound as always, Sergeant Teller." Rico said. We sat around in the general area.

We had the LEO scrounging for scrap metal to fix some of the LARAs after the firefights of yesterday. Tatiana was hanging around us though, laying on an old fighting hole some guy from another company had dug. She didn't say anything though, she was just content with watching us shoot the breeze. Although, I had the suspicion that the Gothic-looking Yuke teenaged killer was following us around for more reasons than killing Soma in revenge.

"I'm getting sick of this waiting. I'd rather be out there in the rough." Sheckenhousen said.

"And get held up by hardcore Dog soldiers. I don't think so." Alphonso said.

Hoot shot him a dangerous look. The rumors, mostly through Micho's big mouth, indicated that Hoot raised some stink about the squad's leadership. Dickerson _loved_ Alphonso, but it was Capt. Morrison's call for Hoot to lead the squad, not the LT.

Actually, everyone was a little cranky. Sheck was unusually cranky. We still had the contest between me, Sheck and Micho going on. The problem was we hadn't received an opportunity to rat-screw a house or two. Everything was barren and deserted. It was driving us crazy. It seemed strangely out of place, but it was one thing we had to look forward to. Sheck sat in his fighting hole near the 03 LARA he commanded.

"Musharak's little religious party is pissing me off. I wish they gave us a Recon mission into the Hazri. I'm telling you. You get me at or within 600 meters of Musharak, they're going to change President's Day to Sheckenhousen Day." He said.

Musharak. We'd been hearing a lot about him over the past few days. The Dogmen troops brought up loudspeakers to broadcast his voice. Meanwhile, rumors were going around that the Dogmen had shot a few White Rose aid workers this morning. However, Dulcinea sent me a Queue mail saying she was okay. Good thing we were in the rear today. We were all worn out by Musharak's words: _The age of corruption under false freedom is at an end._ What exactly did that imply? President Shelley declared war on the Soma because they nuked a fifth of Ocktabursk, an international city. Essentially, the Soma didn't care who they pissed off. I had no sympathy for the Soma and their cause. They gave the world the finger and dared them to fight. Well, we were there to kick the Soma out of the country and we were doing a good job of it so far. The memories of twenty seven years ago weren't there.

Then, I got asked a question and the serious thoughts were put away.

"Okay, let's start again. You have a chance to marry, screw or kill one of the following: Mary Heller Craft, Ramona Wilkes, or Elizabeth D'Shubert." Micho said.

I leaned back in my fighting hole. "Okay, I'd have my fling with Ramona…she's too much a diva to have a long relationship with. I'd marry D'Shubert in a heartbeat. I met D'Shubert once. She was much nicer than the tabloids said."

Cameron's eyes bulged like he'd looked into the face of God. "You met…_Elizabeth D'Shubert_?! Are you serious?"

"It was the only good thing about my trip to Hollywood three years ago. I'll tell you the story later. Now, finally…I'd kill Craft. She was a real witch on that show. Although it was weird they called the finale, _Gravity's Sunshine_. I'm glad she got killed by Raven and John at the end." I said.

"Oh, thanks for ruining it, Corporal! I wanted to see the finale!" Desormeaux said. He was always quite formal. Alphonso had taken a liking to him and thus found himself around the now assistant squad leader. Of course, Cameron and Micho didn't care that they lost their status.

"What are you guys talking about?" Alphonso said.

"This stupid TV series called _The Raven Bauer Project_. It's about this woman who doubles as an Osean secret agent and her husband has no clue she's going out every couple of weeks saving the country until like the end of the series. Apparently, despite us being an elite unit, a lot of Recon, much less regular Marines, have considerably lowered their IQ for loving this ridiculously contrived, over dramatic show." Rico said.

Then I knew how to get Rico where it hurt. I got right in his face like Suzie would hopped up on meth. "Newsflash, Rico…Tasha likes it. Burn, baby!"

"Ooohh! He got you there Rico! I knew it…you think Tasha's dumb, right?" Micho added.

Rico got up and left. "You guys are such…"

Up in the air, there was a flash and the familiar sounds of fighter planes zooming over us. Walt and a few other guys jumped up and yelled "Get some!" Ironic…since those planes weren't even Osean.

"What's going on up there?" Desormeaux asked.

"Yuke air. They're prosecuting targets up ahead." Alphonso responded while brushing his weapon with a towel.

"It's about time we had some damn air. Too bad it's not air conditioning." The Sheck said.

"I hope they know we're here. The last thing I want to get schwacked by Su-32s." I said, off the cuff.

"What is a Su-32?" Desormeaux asked. The PFC was much like a child. Marco certainly qualified. I didn't understand how they picked him to shore up our unit. He asked a million questions, but his new mentor was eager to answer them. However, Su-32s were right up my alley.

"It's a Yuke strike plane. My parents knew a lot about them. They shot down a few during the Versuan War almost twenty years ago." I said.

Micho leaned into Marco and added, "My dad was born in Versua, of course. He hated Versua, at least his mother country. The ones in Rouge Park he never talked about. He thought they were cool. My mom hates her home country as well. Rachel never understood that about my parents though."

"You know, those pilots are awesome. I would have loved to fly the plane that dropped those nuclear bombs on Belka in '95. Those guys killed thousands. That rules." Hoot said.

I wished my mother would have heard that. She would have given him a mouthful. But most of the others ignored him.

"Weren't you born in Versua, Corporal Black?" asked Private Desormeaux.

"No…my dad was celebrating his birthday after a mission. My parents stayed together in this tent and my mom, apparently to celebrate, dropped some aphrodisiacs she picked up from the locals..."

Everyone started laughing. Sheck finally stopped complaining. "No wonder you're here. You're a soldier baby. You got it in your veins."

"Tell us your Hollywood story, Brandon. I want the full details on D'Shubert." Cameron started, and then he turned as I did, watching Lieutenant Dickerson walking along with Lieutenant Riba, "Oh wait, LT at our nine o'clock."

"I hate to break up the trip to the Walk of Fame, but we got a company meeting. There's a major mission coming down the wire." Dickerson said walking up in a bit of a better mood than he'd been in for the past few days. I guessed he finally got some sleep.

"Let's go gentleman." Sheck said to everyone.

I wasn't upset oddly. I really wanted to tell the story. A mission was coming down and it looked like we were going to have a mother of a tasker.

No one spoke until Walt decided to continue our little game, "Hey, I got knew MSK. Brandon's mom, Micho's mom, or Cameron's mom…"

***

It was not common to have mission briefings as a company in the field. The Team Leaders got their orders from the CO, then filtered it down to the enlisted guys. Since we were in the rear though, it didn't matter so much. At least this time we got shade as the spider web of cammie nets and tent coverings where our makeshift HQ was.

"Okay gentlemen, we have a very important mission; one we can't afford to screw up in any way. This comes down straight from CENTCOM. I know some of you are wondering if the rumor about White Crow aid workers being found executed by the Dogmen is true. I'm afraid it is. This morning at 0700, a squad from Raptor company was on a Recon mission and found the bodies of the four men from the aid group. They were accompanying Loyalist units and were ambushed just outside the Sonza region yesterday. Apparently, the story was kept under wraps and was only just leaked." Captain Morrison said.

"Intelligence discovered that the Dogmen were in fact involved in the assault. Now, let's make some things clear. The Dogmen are actually all the commanders of six special armored divisions. Intel tells us that two of the Dogmen's tank divisions are operating in the Gublina region; troop numbers up to about 89,000." Lieutenant Riba said.

Riba was a strange officer. He was the Team 2 leader and served as the XO. He was rather high strung most of the time and was generally excited to be in a war zone. He'd run up and down the line going, "Love this stuff, boys! We're in the middle of the fire, now!" Rumor had it that he was a hell of a baseball player at the Naval Academy. They had a special deployment contract where he could recruit and play pro baseball at the same time. He turned it down, which is why we all liked him. He was insane.

"They're situated around Power Recon's new objective: the city of Severja. Unfortunately, because of the sheer number of enemy plus our supply situation, we can't do jack until First and Second Marines move up the line. That won't be until at least two or three more days. However our enemies have overextended themselves in their push into the southern region. This will buy us some time." Riba continued.

"In the meantime, we've been tasked with a very important mission. Our mission to apprehend or eliminate the Dogmen's Sixth Lieutenant, commander of the 45th Armored Division codename Kid Vicious, real name: Ashtar Mirov, age 31." Morrison continued. He brought up a picture of the target.

"Mirov's the least valuable member, relatively speaking. We're only going to have one shot at this. Apparently, TAC has discovered that Mirov, once a week, ventures out to this little town about 20 klicks north of our position called St. Marie du Maurine. Don't ask why the Yukes named it that. He goes there every day under the cover of night between 2300 and 0100 hrs, stays until about 0600 then splits." said Riba.

Morrison brought up a huge map of the area onto this old chalkboard.

He continued, "The town's layout is in a depression just outside the southwestern region in Vampire Company's AO. Intelligence has confirmed he's already left Severja and is on the way to St. Marie du Maurine. We're hitting him tonight. If that bastard thinks he can allow his men to slaughter civilian humanitarian workers, he's got another thing coming. And that leads us to our next problem. Three Yuktobanian civil engineers have disappeared just outside Ocktabursk. U-2 and SATCOM surveillance has confirmed that the workers, a married couple and an additional man are in the village. The layout of the village is relatively simple. The main features are the train station to the north, the slant X-cross road just outside the town, and the enemy holding up in the post office, the school and the large house a block from the train station. The civilians are believed to be held in the house while Mr. Vicious tends to the school. We have to strike _now_, while we have the advantage of surprise. It'll probably be our only chance to catch this guy. This is going to a tricky one. However, as far as intelligence is concerned the area, oddly, is light on enemies."

"If there's any trouble, we do have VTOL air support from our Yuke allies. Here's the break down. Our company's shotgun and we'll have one squad from Vampire and Raptor with us…along with our favorite Yuke adolescent killers." Morrison said. We all chuckled. Oddly enough, the LEO had become a part of company. Suzie, Seto, Tatiana and a few of the others had done us a good service. Well...if one counted running ridiculous errands like scrounging for packs of cigarettes, dip, food and porn. "82nd and 101st Airborne will be conducting diversionary assaults to our extreme flanks in hopes of drawing away any straggling units in the area."

Riba continued, "Team 1 will be in charge of raiding the houses. Team 2 will form blocking actions at the southern road. Team 3 will form blocking actions along the northern flank, and the other squads will provide security along the east. We'll be assaulting in the LARAs. Apart from the large house, everything is considered hostile. But don't get medieval on anything before town without checking with command. We'll jump onto Route 12E, then link up with the additional elements, jump onto Highway U80 and blow into Saint Marie du Maurine.

"We're basically going to be on our own for this one. Keep communications tight. We screw this up, this war criminal hobnob is getting away. Any questions?" Morrison asked.

There was a beauty to the Captain's briefings. He never needed to repeat anything and we sat there like a brand new sponge, soaking up every bit of information we could.

"Let's go get 'em, Marines." He said.

I could only smile. We were going to rat-screw the enemy where they lived.

***

**2200 hrs**

One would think the entire land in Yuktobania was a wasteland destroyed by nuclear fire. Everything was dead and blown away; even more so with the battles in those ruined lands. I was tired of looking at the dead landscape. And to think that Dulcinea, the girl I loved, chose this place over comfort was amazing. I was getting sick of Yuktobania and I'd only been here for almost six days. It was morning back in Alaska at the time. Nagase, my mom…she'd have been up and about cleaning the house. David, my father, was probably out checking out the yard and deciding if he wanted to mow it that week. However, since we lived in Southern Alaska, we were lucky to have a lawn. There was nothing green in Yuktobania.

And out there in that desolate land was a war criminal responsible for a chain of terrible events that caused my sister, Sueltana, to be as she was in Versua, a wanderer…lost without any direction or help.

It was no problem, however, for the LARAs. The LARAs (Light Armor Recon-Assault) were the next generation of infantry fighting vehicle. They could fit seven to eight Marines inside and had a myriad of weapons. The fifty caliber gun was replaced by the U-99 Harpoon, a longer, heavier version of the X-88C Open Bolt carried by heavy support guys like Desormeaux or Walt. One other offensive option was the Halberd-15, a weapon that replaced the AT-100 rocket launcher and was used to take on tanks. It could knock out T-72s and up to 100s.

The LARAs were awesome. They had a similarity to the Stryker design, but a LARA sat much lower to the ground, had six wheels that could withstand _any_ terrain. It also had X-88 modules for additional fire support. The modules were simply a support for the gun to stabilize it. Firing on the drive by was much easier. The "bubble gun" which was either a U-99, VV-3 Grenade launcher, or a Halberd-15 encased in an armored bubble. It used TAC scanners to point out threats, but there was an open switch for low threat situations.

We prepared to step off in our assault teams. We were all gathered around our vehicles checking and cleaning our weapons, going over the maps and "educating" Hoot on the radio freqs for the allied units in our general area. I was with the lead team in the 01 this time. Hoot, me, Gray, Walt, Wash, Micho and Alphonso would be charged with rescuing the hostages from the large plantation house. Alphonso was the driver, Dalton was on the turret, and Hoot would command the vehicle.

We were not taking the entire company, HQ and supply companies were staying behind. We were traveling lean in opposition to when we normally moved in the LARAs. The diversionary assaults would tie up the enemy long enough for us to make our raid. It was all basically hope that Vicious didn't flee. Vicious' photo reminded me of the audio/visual geek in high school. He looked more like a scientist than a soldier.

But that wasn't the only thing on our minds. For some…it was the name of our objective.

"You know why they named it Saint Marie du Maurine, don't you?" Alphonso asked me while he gathered his equipment.

"No, I don't. It sounds like a Sotoan name or something." I said.

"It is. You see, in the 1700s the Sotoans were in the middle of this religious struggle. The Catholic Church was split between three different factions: the Orthodox, the Liberalist, and the precursor to the modern church, the Reformation. I can't really go into the details right now, but basically the Orthodox Church had these really ridiculous and almost callous rules and prejudices about every other race and gender except white males." Alphonso said, while strapping his ammo packs on.

He then started to brass check his scoped X-88. "Liberalists wanted things fair, but they were backed by really rich lay worshipers. However, they were complete hypocrites since their beliefs treated women and the poor _worse_ than the Orthodox. The Reformation wanted total change in the dogmatic laws of the church and were excommunicated by the OC. They were kicked out of their motherland, but were embraced by the more open minded descendants of the Tatars. Ironic, since fifty years later, the new heir to the Royal Family of Sotoa actually supported the Reformation and allowed the Reform parties to return home…but some remained and there you have it. Saint Marie du Maurine: _Saint Marie for All Mankind_. There's evidence of Sotoan influence all over Gublina…hell, Gublina is actually Sotoan for…"

Hoot cut him off. "Okay, change of squad personnel. Cameron, you're taking Alphonso's place driving. Marco, you're taking Gray's place on the turret. The new guy needs the experience."

"Hmm…not interested in my historical perspective, Sergeant?"

"No…not only no, but _hell_ no! The last thing I need is a history lesson about some town in the ass-end of this dumpster fire that's Yuktobania, no disrespect." Hoot said, "Did Kate send you a rolodex of this stuff or something? I bet she gets a real kick out of this while her thighs get bigger off iced lattes."

"I told you Al! Your girlfriend's got to watch them sweets!" Micho said.

"Honestly, I don't know why you're marrying this chick." Walt said.

The fangs started to come out when Hoot began his diatribe. At the time I knew if Alphonso made Sergeant, the hostility was going to change _quick_ because Hoot was openly being rather…cantankerous around our squad mate and he wasn't alone. For some of the lesser Privates who disliked the Sapinian NCO ridiculed the only thing they could do directly: Kate.

"Three days ago, you said you liked her!" Alphonso said.

"No, I just said she was attractive. She just loves to eat…a lot. She's just got a little more junk in the trunk than Brandon's girl. Of course, Kate couldn't be attractive in the same room as Dulcinea but…"

"Jesus, Walt. Leave the man's woman alone for Christ's sake! We get it. She's a…little pudgy. I guess she's really big boned after all." Wash added.

"No, she's small boned in the torso, but big _assed_." Walt further added.

I felt bad for Alphonso. His fiancé was always so nice to everyone and never asked for anything in return. She was a pretty good cook up with Micho's mother in comparison. I wondered what would have happened if Kate knew how some of the Sapinian's Marine friends thought of her. After all, I knew better because the razzing was not even close to the more behind the back insults of Kate's unique figure. She'd recieved too much ridicule since the people who often made fun of her had no business doing it really. If one looked around the Company, most people's girlfriends had serious flaws of their own. But Kate wasn't thin and waif-like as everyone else's girlfriends. They had other problems...

Brianne, Cameron's Hollywood girlfriend, was a liberal, Communist loving, hippie tree hugger who often kissed other women for fun and sung about it with her crappy garage band.

Bree, Eric's (Eric the Red) girlfriend…if I were to look up the word _floozy_ in the dictionary, Bree's picture would be right beside it. We were at a party one weekend during Recon Training and she got drunk and offered to sleep with _me_ once. That's all I needed to know.

As Alphonso gathered his gear to move to the number 02 LARA, I saw the look on his face. The fact that Micho even got in on the joke was clearly affecting him. No one else cared to see…but I did. He never let anything bother him openly…but I knew there was some resentment beneath. He could never fully express any frustration to Hoot since the country boy outranked the Sapinian.

Alphonso, in my opinion, was the only grunt who did his job seriously and performed it just as good as or better than anyone else. However, he just didn't seem to fit with anyone else. Meanwhile, I was with Walt and Micho, joking and laughing about this same old tired horse. It was funny once upon a time, but now it was just annoying.

I was bothered about how little they knew about Kate. I guessed it was about the same amount as the oblivious Eric knew about Bree: nothing. Then, I took a look at the crumpled letter Rico left. It was too close to not be a description about Dulcinea. I wondered if _I_ knew everything about my own love. Then I wondered if _they_, in their private moments…secretly thought Dulcinea had some imperfection they joked about with f-bombs and references to the female anatomy. That was worse though. At least they made fun of Kate to Alphonso's face…

It was strange to have this doubt. There were times me and my girl were separated by mere blocks and up to as far as the ocean. I never once doubted her until this point.

Alphonso got to the door of the 02, turned back to Hoot, looking him right in the eye. "It's ironic really. The soldiers who protected these ancient lands, Severja and Gulbina…were called Codamukas. Dog soldiers. Funny the Soma would pick the name of their ancient blood enemies for their elite units."

"Hey, professor! Are you done with the history lesson?" asked Hoot.

"Yes, Sergeant. Can we be about our mission?" said Adair.

"Of course. Now shut up and drive the damn LARA. We're Oscar Mike, people! School's out and it's going to be lights out for the Dogmen, baby!" said Teller.

I just sat there for a moment, letting the emptiness of the world fill me. I didn't respond until Micho tapped me on the shoulder. "Come on, man! We're on the move!"

"Let's go catch us a terrorist, gentleman!" Sheckenhousen shouted, moving for his vehicle.

We all got into the cramped vehicle. Walt climbed up into the LARA."I got a bad feeling about this one. I hope the brass know what they're doing." It was oddly lower than usual. It wasn't a complaining voice this time; it was actually one of legitimate concern for the first time in a long while.

"Walt, how _dare_ you question the strategic plan? The top officers always know what they're doing sometimes." Micho said, laughing.

The LARAs were pretty comfortable for a fighting vehicle. They had these nice cushoned seats and small vents to suck out heat. The H Corporation did some good work with these babies. There was a long silence as we switched on our NVGs. There was a delay since the LEOs were riding with the Captain and someone from Supply forgot the batteries for the infrared scanners. Morrison was a little ticked, but we were able to get off in time.

"All Werewolf Victors, this is Werewolf Alpha. We're Oscar Mike. Keep dispersion and hold speed at 45 kph." Morrison said.

We had to gather the elements from the other companies then head onto the Route. I felt confident…maybe too confident. I did something I normally didn't do…I started singing. "We're on the road again, baby…we're on the road again…"

***

For the first thirty minutes, it was smooth sailing. We saw the lights in the distance as the battle was joined between the Army Airborne and the distant Soma forces. We tried to pay attention to our own problems though. We didn't want the flashes to wash out our NVGs, go blind and let Cameron drive us into a ditch. I was seated on the left side right behind our Hollywood driver. We each had sectors to watch. I was in charge of looking northwest and Micho was northeast. Marco, the new guy, had to watch everything from nine to three o'clock in the turret gun.

I had my scoped rifle in the module, but my glass shield was off so I could _use_ it. As I watched my sector, I noticed there was a green light across my field of vision.

"This Romeo Hotel 19…someone's got their IR designator on." I said. Usually, one didn't turn it on unless they knew something was out there.

"Hotel 19, this is Hotel 12. I got something to my nine, possible foot mobile at 400 meters. Hard to tell though. Are you seeing it?" said the voice of Sgt. Adams in the 04.

"Negative. Hold on…no, wait twelve, it's just a bush." I said.

The train of vehicles continued on as we swerved around the bends in the road. All around were bodies and debris from past struggles. We were in a truly dead land.

"Werewolf Beta to Romeo Hotel 1, the turn for the U80 is just up ahead in about 100 meters." Dickerson said.

"I see it, we are making that turn now." Hoot said, still looking at the monitor. "Stay frosty, boys. This is bad guy country."

Cameron turned the vehicle onto to this bumpy dirt road then back into a straight channel.

"I'm sick of people saying that. Stay frosty. What does that mean? Like I'm more alert when I'm cold? That is, as Rico would say, so old. Can we come up with something else?" Walt complained.

"Walt, shut up before I _frost_ my foot up your ass, okay?" Hoot said.

Walt laughed. "Man, damn. I was just playing around. By the way Brandon, you never did tell us your Hollywood story."

"Oh, yeah. D'Shubert…how did that encounter happen?" Cameron asked.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, it was three years ago. I was in Hollywood with my parents and Tasha and Astrid…"

"Yeah, that crazy-ass little sister of yours kicked me in the gonads when I was in high school." Micho said.

"You shouldn't have stepped on her doll house." I said, "That said, I don't see her being good in soccer. But, anyway we ended up at the Fresno Hotel. It was about a three or four star place, but the room service…not that great."

Cameron added, "Yeah, I know where that place is. Just off Sunset and 5th outside the Fever Plaza. But that's nowhere near the studios though. That's the low-end, middle class area of Sunset Blvd, to the south."

I continued, "Man, it was _hot_ that day. My mom made a tactical mistake scheduling the vacation in late July; trying to save money and everything. It was hot as hell. It was _105 degrees_. My little sister's shoes melted in the parking lot! Not to mention that overpriced crap they had in the malls, coffee and gift shops."

"Yeah, Brandon's mom lives in freaking coffee shops. That's all she does is drink that crap. I don't see the big deal though." Walt added.

"My parents spent like 40 bucks on small coffees. It was just complete highway robbery." I said, angry at the memory. "The second day, it's only 98 degrees. My sis and I hopped in a cab and we decided to go see the Walk of Fame. Then there was this boy she knew from years ago in the crowd, and she hops out like a dummy. So I'm alone in this cab off Figueroa and Artesia. We're driving up, and there's this broke down car off Flower Street. I couldn't tell the brand, but I knew it looked like an expensive car. There were a ton of people around here, but I can't tell for what. She flags down the cab and jumps in the backseat where I was. She throws this wad of cash at the driver and says, 'get me to Mountain Park Studios.' I look to my left, then my right…a double take because I could not believe who was in the cab with me."

"D'Shubert?" asked the normally taciturn Corporal Demetrius Wash.

"Oh, yeah." I said. "Damn near had a heart attack."

"And if you'd died at sixteen we wouldn't have had your linguistic skills that stopped us from lighting up that Loyalist van the other day." Hoot added.

"She had on this little black dress, this pearl lipstick and she smelled like she'd come out of an expensive perfume factory. She had these real beautiful lace stockings on and these cute looking sling-back pumps." I continued. But at this point, _I_ was almost guilty of thinking too much about another woman.

"Hey…I got some major activity to my three." Desormeaux said, swirling the turret around.

I saw the constant flashes in the distance. They were growing with each minute.

"It's 82nd. They're getting some over there. I hope they're ready for a fight. Those Dogmen are _relentless_." Cameron said.

"Those pathetic Army guys think they're so elite. Airborne division? Please. We can jump out of planes too! We're Power Recon! We're second to nobody!" Walt said.

_Interesting morale from a guy who had to choose between the Marine Corps and jail_, I thought.

"They're all happy because they get to pop their cherries tonight; bunch of weaklings." Micho said.

"Okay, guys…keep watching your sectors. The turn onto the U80 highway should be here. We're getting off the highway in 10 klicks, then turn onto Route 16 at Grid 56-XS184." Hoot added.

"Why are we taking the scenic route?" Desormeaux asked.

"Dumb nuts, the highway's past the magic line. No Osean units' have been across it." Hoot said.

After admonishing the FNG, I looked and I saw the intensity of the firing ahead. Every second it seemed to get more and more insane. Then there were several balls of flame ahead. I hoped we were winning the battle. And just like that, more doubt came into my mind.

"Man, it's getting _real_ intense out there at my nine." I said.

"It's kinda pretty. It's beautiful watching our enemies get killed from a thousand meters away. And it's better when you get to waste some Tangos yourself. That's the ultimate Osean dream: hanging out with cool guys, killing people with expensive guns and going to strip clubs with your buddies and your girlfriend." Cameron added.

"That's because Bree makes getting wasted an art form. She drinks more than a whale." I said.

"We can go tic for tac on whose girlfriend drinks more Brandon, because as I remember it, Dulcinea likes to knock back quite a few as well. So Bree had one more DUI than Dulcinea…"

"Werewolf Alpha to all Werewolf victors. We are crossing the main line of resistance and onto the highway. Stay frosty. Observe everything and trust nothing." Morrison said.

Walt sighed in exasperation for obvious reasons. "Go on with the Hollywood story, Ran."

"Okay, D'Shubert looks at me and asks, 'What are you doing here?' And I said, 'I'm just a tourist.' Now I knew who it was. I watched the show religiously. Then I said like some lovesick fan, 'I really love your show.' To which she says, 'Where do you come from?' I said, 'Alaska'. I tell her how I'm having a miserable time here with this overpriced crap…to which she replied, 'Yeah, I hate this place too.' I'm serious." I continued.

"She hates Hollywood?" Cameron asked, "No wonder she lives in Remondo Beach."

"Guys, it's getting real busy out here." Private New Guy said.

"Don't worry about it! We're kicking their tails. Dogmen don't have a chance in hell." Hoot said, annoyed.

"This place is a dead zone man. I've never seen anything like this. I bet Versua's in better shape. What in God's name caused this destruction? Surely we'd have some answers by now." Micho said, bringing up another tangent that was strangely out of place, and yet seemed paradoxically apt.

Then Hoot became a little spooked when one of the firefights felt a little too close, despite it being 650 meters away."Romeo Hotel 1 to Werewolf Beta, interrogative: is there any update on the situation at our flanks, over? I'm worried we may have been compromised."

"Hotel 1, it's getting pretty intense. They've run into the two Dogmen armored divisions. Other than that, we've got no intel on the current situation. Let's focus on our own mission." Dickerson said.

Just as he said that, I thought I saw lights in the sky ahead. I panicked and thought they were enemy planes at first, but they were moving too slow.

"Helicopters…" I said.

"Romeo Lima 1 to Werewolf Beta, interrogative: are those choppers friendly? They're not showing up on the TAC." Sheckenhousen asked over the radio.

"Roger, Lima 1. They're cas-evac choppers." Dickerson responded. His voice was slow, and with good reason. They were seven of them. The Airborne was suffering some serious casualties.

"Those airborne guys must be getting chopped up pretty good for evacs this quick." Alphonso said over the radio, "We'd better pull this off because a lot of good men will dead for nothing if we screw this up."

"Dumb Bible Thumper. Who gives a flying cat's ball about the Airborne? It's terrorist hunting season." Hoot said to us.

I wanted to say something, but Micho decided to take initiative and take Hoot to task a little bit.

"Sergeant, if I may ask…what's gotten into you lately? Did your wife leave you or something?" Micho asked.

"No, one of my friends in the 3/3 for 1st Marines got killed yesterday by those goddamn Dogmen. He was one of those guys who believed in God and whatnot. He was a funny man though, not all educated and sophisticated like Corporal Al. And his girlfriend was a lot more attractive than Kate, I'll tell you that."

"Yeah, at the rate she's going…I hate to see when she's knocked up. She'll gain 300 pounds then." Walt said.

I'd completely lost track of where we were. Then Cameron, who seemed to be the only one paying attention, made the call, "Hotel One to all Werewolf Victors, we are within five minutes of making the turn onto Route 16."

And just like that…a familiar voice came back. "All Werewolf Victors, this is G1. Disregard original orders. Continue onto Highway U80 north and push into the city."

"What? Umm…this is Havok Five…um…who the hell is G1?" asked one of the trailing LEO observers with the CO. I recognized the voice as Oman, one of Suzie's friends. Rumor had it Seto was getting a little fresh with him but…I wasn't sure. I didn't care.

"This is Raptor Theta Three. Request ID on G1. Who is this?" said the Raptor Team 3 leader attached to our task force.

"I repeat, this is G1. Disregard original orders. Continue onto Highway U80 north and push into the city." the female voice said.

Morrison sighed over the radio. "Roger. All Victors comply with new orders. Straight from CENTCOM."

I was angry at first, but as I sat there…it kinda made sense given the situation. I just hoped that Kid Vicious hadn't flown the coop.

"Okay, this is a little crazy but if the brass wants it done…" Cameron said, "Wait! There's a barricade."

The highway was intentionally blocked off by barricades and debris. Cameron almost slowed but not before Sarge had a word.

"Blow through it!" Hoot shouted, "Like my dad always said, fifty percent of the time, it works every time."

I resisted the urge to ask what in God's name that meant. We crashed through the mess of poles, cars and a cargo box of some kind...then we started taking fire. Pings of automatic rifle fire struck the side of the vehicle as it seemed the war in the distance knocked on our LARA's door.

"Contact left!" said Marco. He started firing the Bush gun and I could see his tracers light up a group of enemies hidden in the dead trees. One advantage this dead world of Yuke-land had…there was nowhere to hide. Then, it started to rain. Bullets from heaven crashed down and fire from the sky blinded us for a moment as everything in the night was filled with light of death and the will to survive behind each of those tiny illuminations.

For the next few klicks, we burst into the area blasting everything that was firing at us. It was just one crazy fireworks show mixed with some display that was similar to glow in the dark silly string. I didn't even hit anyone. I just wanted to keep the enemy's heads down so we could get to the objective in one piece.

"Raptor Theta Three to G1…request clarification on objective. Our target may blow town now."

"Negative. Target is still within the town's limits." G1 said. There was a long pause as we continued to take fire from both sides. "All Task Force Victors, be advised: the 101st Division's assault has been turned back. I repeat, the western assault has been turned back. U-2 surveillance has picked up three dozen tanks of an unidentified class in the area about 15 klicks east of the town's position. Recommend you expedite your progress."

"Unidentified…class? Request clarification." asked Raptor Theta Three.

"They do not register in the intel databases. Whatever they are, they've turned back at least 30 Apache helicopters, shot down or damaged." G1 said.

If Walt's black skin could, it would have turned white. "Holy crap! Brandon! Did you hear that!? Tanks turning back _Apaches_! Did your parents ever see anything like that?!" Walt shouted, while firing off another burst of his weapon.

I was scared for a moment. My parents had told me many a story about the extraordinary weapons they'd had to battle: flying ships, satellites, massive subs, and machines that shot artificial lighting. Now I knew there were tanks that could engage aircraft. The ZPUs could. But if it wasn't registering in anyone's files…that was truly a scary thought. I said nothing.

"If they're turning back those monsters…we are in some serious trouble!" Cameron said.

"Forget it, just watch the road. These Dogmen don't screw around!" Hoot said.

"Command has approved change in ROE. Everything in the area is hostile. I repeat, all targets in area are hostile." G1 said.

We were sliding all over the road. Cameron was trying to find the turn, but nearly kept going off the side of the winding highway. Then we got off at the U45 East into the Route 16 South and were suddenly flying across the field as Cameron lost his way. We saw the buildings of St. Marie du Maurine…but the town seemed smaller than I thought it was. Cameron finally made it back onto the road...but it didn't last for long. We were flying over the wet pavement. We were going much faster than we should have been but I didn't notice it at first.

"Slow down! Watch the road!" Hoot said. We jumped a small, muddy berm and I could see the shadows and shapes of a large building ahead.

"Oh, snap! Hold on to your butts gentleman!" Cameron shouted.

My mind was in overload, and everything was flooding through: my parents, my Dulcinea, Tasha, Cameron's crappy driving, Hollywood, Sueltana, Lucy, Jakob, Alphonso, my weapon, Sheck, Desormeaux and so much more. My brain nearly exploded and I clutched my head. It was then I realized my head was hurting because our driver had crashed us right into the plantation's rear area. I guess I missed the part of the briefing where we'd Recon the kitchen in force via the LARA's front bumper! Cameron had torn ass through the now wet, muddy field under heavy RPG and mortar fire. I'd banged my head against the side of my helmet and was out for some time.

"_What are the odds you'd drive us right into our objective, Cameron…you terrible driving bastard! Let's go!"_

"_I hope I get a medal for that one!"_

"_Yo, dude…wake up." I heard Micho say. _"You alright?"

I didn't say anything to my friend. I picked up my weapon and checked my TAC. It was screwy, but my glass shield wasn't shattered. We entered the house from the back door exit of the vehicle. The rain was picking up. We began pouring into the house. By now, the fighting outside had intensified as all the elements of the raid teams poured into the small town.

"Go, go!" Hoot ordered. We spilled into the building as fire began to pick up all around the area.

Hoot wanted me to establish security on the current floor. I waited by the downstairs door. Part of the house had collapsed in as the detritus from whatever caved the roof in was all over the floor in front of me. Above me was the ruined second floor. The entire house lacked any comforts at all. There were no expensive paintings, no fine dishes or linoleum. There were no candles burning or rich people playing cards, sipping brandy and watching the Stock Exchange channel. And just before I could even get a good look at the entire floor, one of the doors opened next to me and I was face to face with the enemy. His eyes were predatory but I didn't have time to get a good look at him.

"Holy…!"

It was the last thing I said as I dove out of the way. Something inside told me to just dive out of there. Because the last thing I saw before I hit the ground was a wall of fire.

"You can't save them! You can't even save yourselves!" he said, his voice maniacal.

I had hoped it was the target. I figured KV would be hardcore enough to use a flaming weapon. But as Kell dropped him from the second floor, it was clear…that was not the case. I was frozen for a moment, and if any other enemy came...he would have gotten the drop on me. Kell ran down stairs, grabbed my hand and helped me to my shocked feet. I was surprised the enemy's weapon didn't explode.

"These guys are hardcore. Had a flamethrower and everything." Kell said, breathing heavily. The flames burned the eastern side of the hall and Walker, from Alphonso's crew put it out with a fire extinguisher.

"This is Easy 77! We've found the hostages…some of them. We found one of them shot in the head. The other two were found by Hoot's group." I heard Sheck say over the radio.

"Roger. All units…all buildings are secure, but there's no sign of the target." Morrison said.

As he said that, a few of the hostages from upstairs were brought down with the help of Wash, Micho and Walt. Kell and Walt began untying the two hostages. Alphonso's group had already checked the other side and came in through the front. Cameron backed the LARA out of the house and the huge hole he made was now quite apparently. Though knowing Cameron, I figured he'd crash it into a tree. There were two hostages. Micho then went to check the basement. I didn't notice he'd gone alone initially, but as far as we knew the entire town was clean. Most of the enemy fled and didn't stay to fight. _Some elite division_, I thought. Rico and some of the other teams began filtering into the house.

The female of the group looked haggard. She almost passed right by me, then clutched onto my arm. Her walk was confused and she looked dazed and panicky.

"Please, you must get out of here! NOW! They're coming for you!" she said in her distinct Yuke voice.

"Yeah, and when they get here we're going to kick them out of this dusty town like the rest of these poor saps." Hoot said, bumping knuckles with Rico.

"Do you not understand, Osean? They knew. They set you up! They're all converging on this town…they were waiting for the _glassed ones_ to show up! The ones who wear the black armor." She said, her eyes bulging. I noticed what she was wearing.

The woman let go of me after a long minute. She didn't look like an aid worker…she looked more like a doctor. Not just any doctor. She was probably in her late thirties. They didn't give us names and as such, there was no way we could know what she really did without her telling us. The male of the group was almost stunned into silence. He didn't protest or anything. He too, though, looked like some kind of researcher. Then I remembered that they'd come from Octkabursk. I knew enough about Octkatursk to know that a lot of the research on this… "Sever Effect" was being done there. I assumed that was the reason these people were kidnapped.

Perhaps Suzie's drug-filled rant was right on the money, I thought at the time.

"Glassed ones?" I said. It was then I realized that the enemy was much more aware of our capabilities than we once thought. It was a disturbing thing to know.

Outside, there was plenty of activity, but no shooting in the area. However, I could hear the booming sounds in the distance. I could have sworn they were getting closer. The fact we'd still not found Kid Vicious ticked me off more and more every second we waited. By the time we'd secured the hostages, my breathing almost became an animal snarl.

Just as we secured the couple, Micho came running up the stairs. Initially, I couldn't hear him though since a blast went off to drown out his footsteps. He then appeared right in front of me, gasping and almost pale…as if he'd seen the ghost of his dead older sister.

Micho tugged at my suit's arm. "Dude! Dude, come here! Kell, get the LT…I done found something…just…oh, man…"

My buddy had to get himself straightened out as the LT came running into the room. His face was panicked and the moisture of his breathing fogged up his shield glass to the point he had to remove it for a moment.

"What's going on?" Lieutenant Dickerson said.

Micho led us into the basement, but his steps were slow. The LT urged him on, but something in his voice led me to believe some part of him didn't want to know what was down there. As for me, my heart jumped a bit every step I took. The creaking of the stairs, each crack louder and more violent as our heavy forms passed over hundred year old wood. The nervous woman behind me was too freaked out to continue. She couldn't even talk all of the sudden. Her face was white as snow as I turned and left her at the top of the stairs. However, she knew what was there and whatever it was, she couldn't see it again.

As we reached the bottom, there was little indication of movement. Behind this door could have lain whatever the enemy was talking about. _You can't save them? Was the answer behind this door_, I thought.

As Micho made the breach, which I thought was strange considering he'd already opened the door, we looked inside and all I could see what absolute horror on everyone's faces. I wasn't even looking at the scene until I'd finished staring at my comrades' expressions. Then I turned...

There were bodies everywhere. Each one was half nude and hanging upside down, their hands and feet were chained, and every corpse had several cuts and lacerations on them. Beneath each of their heads lay a pool of blood surrounding a bucket that was obviously used to collect the plasma. Or at least…I thought it was blood. I looked closer as I stared at one of the dead men. They weren't many cuts or lacerations at all. Their throats had been cut, but on the ground was not only blood…it was some strange black fluid. They were strange contusions on their skin and each of them died with their eyes open. They varied in age. The first man was an old man, the next was a young woman and I knew her death was equally brutal as even the chauvinist Walt found himself in sickened dismay. Then, the sight that almost made me shed a few tears. There was pair of twins: fraternal twins like me and Tasha. They couldn't have been more than seven years old…

My stomach lurched and I didn't want to lose my innards while my helmet was still on. But removing it in these conditions was a common sense biohazard. I didn't care about the distant blasts. None of us did. We were all attracted this macabre scene. We all wondered how an enemy could be so cruel. Then again, this was the Dogmen after all. We shouldn't have been shocked. I shouldn't have been. After all, I'd heard brutality from them before. But in that case, the hostages were merely shot in the head. It was nothing like this. And as I looked at this terror, I thought...what was the purpose of this? What were they doing here? Why did the Dogmen feel the need to systematically execute people by hanging them upside down and slitting their throats? Much less innocent children! As I saw this, I had no answers for what the black solution around us was. I couldn't tell how long these people had been dead…but it didn't matter. These people were gone. They'd never laugh or cry again. Those children would never grow up and fall in love. They'd never meet their Dulcinea or their Rico and have kids of their own. They'd never enjoy the scorching sun of Sand Island or the gentle breeze of November City. They were forgotten already. They'd only be a sad news story for five minutes. The next scoop would be in the trust and that was it. They were wiped off the face of the earth for no sensible reason I could find. As if there was a sensible reason at all!

"Oh, my god…" was all Lieutenant could say.

"Holy crap…what done happened in here?" Walt said.

"It's like something out of a horror movie!" Wash said.

"Dude…this is messed up beyond all I've ever seen." Micho said. Micho was backing away, almost ready to run up the stairs ten at a time just to get away.

Alphonso looked stoic. He ignored a radio call for him. I thought he'd get out the bible and read last rites or something. However, even he was stunned by this blatant display of inhumanity taken to a wholly different level. His eyes perched up when we all heard a banging sound and a shadow moving across the partially lit room.

"Movement front!" Hoot said, the corrected himself when we all saw the source of the movement. "Wait, it's a kid! There's a survivor!"

I looked right in the little girl's blue eyes. Her gaze matched mine. Her face was dirty and everything she wore was tattered and blackened. The black haired girl had something wrapped around her; a blanket or some kind of torn burlap sack, I couldn't tell. Her lips moved a mile a minute as I approached her with a single step. Her face was pinched in a little bit, but I knew who it was.

"Jesus…oh my god!" I said with an out of place smile.

It was Lucy. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy Devia! Sueltana's daughter was barely eight years old and a world away for years. It seemed even farther when Sueltana went missing. But Lucy was here, a blessing, the only survivor in this gruesome scene.

"Brandon…" Micho said. His voice was halted.

"Lucy!?" I shouted out.

Lucy looked straight at me. She was partially on the floor, but still a bit upright. She was silent as she used whatever kind of sheet she had to cover her body. I didn't waste any time. I walked over to her and she held her head up in acknowledgement of my presence. I just picked her up and I was elated.

"Oh, my god…Lucy! I thought you were dead!"

The others said nothing to me. I looked at Lucy and she was in bad shape. She wasn't hurt any place I could see. I could feel her bones though. She proabably hadn't eaten in few days. Yet, she was still silent. I didn't question it too much. She was in the middle of a dramatic, ghastly scene. It was something no eight year old girl, much less any woman or man of any age should have seen. At least, a civilian; in the military, we expected to see such things…but nothing prepared us for the truth.

On the outside, the search was still on for Kid Vicious. But to me, it was a partially successful mission. Lucy was safe, and one third of the puzzle was in place. At the moment, I could have cared or less about a terrorist on the loose.

"Are you hurt? Say something! It's me, your uncle Brandon."

The formerly catatonic Lucy Devia finally gave me a response…one I did not expect at all. Walt came over to my right and Alphonso to my left. Lucy pointed at her mouth…and opened it. What I saw…it was enough to make me vomit. I dropped her and Alphonso caught her before she landed on the floor. I could see a drip or two of saline from her eyes.

All I could feel was a stinging hatred deep within my soul. The puzzle had not yet been a third filled. There were only more questions. If _they_ did something this terrible to an eight year old girl, how much more cruel could the Dogmen, much less wastes of Yuktobania, be to my older sister and her husband? Alphonso was wrong. These were _not_ men who believed in a divine right to Yuktobania's sovereignty. Musharak was not some divine leader on a holy quest given by ancient religious doctrinaire. No, the Dogmen, and subsequently Musharak, were nothing more than sadists and psychopaths who held other people's lives much lower than any other self-respecting aggressor nation would ever have.

"Dude…what's wrong?" Alphonso said. The LT was still in shock, but was trying his best to investigate this room of horror. I didn't answer…but it was too late to do so.

The Captain Morrison screamed over the radio, "All Werewolf units, this is Alpha! We are being attacked by enemy armor! All units drop what you're doing and return to the LARAs now!"

Dickerson almost lost his composure. "Alpha, this is Beta. Interrogative: where are we going to stash the civvies?"

"Place them in the 01 truck and 03 will take the lead." Morrison ordered.

"Roger! Let's move!" the LT said.

I was boiling with rage. I wanted to go out there and kill every single enemy soldier. Orignally, my goal was to do my best and make it home to my family and Dulcinea. However, for the first time in a long time, Dulcinea wasn't a priority at all.

Hell, my own survival wasn't even a priority. What mattered was the enemy out there in the fields moving to schwack us with their counterattack. What mattered was the eight year old child in my arms and the White Rose hostages we freed. What mattered was that I got a chance to take out as many Dogmen as possible before I got whacked. For the first time, I didn't care about living. I was a burning torch inside. I didn't care. I'd seen the edge of brutality and there was no chance for redemption for that.

"What's wrong with her? Is she autistic or something?" Walt asked.

I didn't care if he was joking or not. He was already a pain in the butt with one question. I wanted to punch Walt in the face. Lucy was still emotionally distant on the outside, but I looked in her eyes as I ran up the stairs and I could see her expression. It was almost as if she was sorry for this, as if the entire thing was _her_ fault. Then there was the other problem…I'd have to tell my mother and father about this.

How would the people formerly known as Blaze and Edge take this? Would they be intensely sad? Would they be furious beyond belief? (At least, I knew it would get my mother off the Hephaestus debate) There was no way to know.

Then there was more immediate problem, and thus was the biggest one. Whatever turned back the 101st Airborne's attack was heading our way. We _were_ in serious trouble. Our LARAs didn't stand a chance against them head on. I overheard the Sheck talk about Rico and Tristan trying to knock out the tanks with their Javelins…but the missiles _bounced_ off the tank's armor! These tanks, whatever they were, weren't really tanks; they were monsters from our nightmares. Monsters from under Lucy's bed were coming for our blood.

Perhaps I had to give Walt some credit. He did call it. He had a bad feeling for a reason. The whole mission was snafu. We'd lost track of Kid Vicious, there were more dead civilians to deal with and my niece would never talk again. I had yet to address that issue to Walt. Alphonso sort of knew, I could tell it in his face.

We emerged from the house as distant blasts got even closer. The trees to the south erupted and death was getting closer. I handed the voiceless Lucy to Desormeaux and I turned around to Walter Snow, my anger like the inside of an active volcano.

"Walt, those Dogmen psychos cut out her _fucking_ tongue!"

To be continued in…Chapter 8: The Dogmen (Part II)


	8. The Dogmen: Part II

Chapter 8: The Dogmen (Part II)

There was only rain. _We were going to die_, I thought. I was scared more than I was bloodied. I wanted to be back at Cara's Cove under the orange glow of the fading sun. I wanted to feel the heat of Dulcinea's skin and her cherry lips just I did all those months ago. But there was no Cove tonight. No beautiful setting sun. There was only death, incoming and that left behind. It was us. I wasn't holding Dulcinea. I was holding the torn clothed sluice of an eight year old girl missing her tongue. We just rushed inside the LARAs.

"They did WHAT?!" Micho shouted.

"They cut out her tongue!" I shouted.

"No witnesses. But why leave her alive? What happened down there?" Micho asked.

As we got in, Hoot started barking out orders. "Forget about that for now! Micho, you take Walt and head into Alphonso's LARA! We gotta pack the civvies in ours! Black, stow the kid under the back seat, Wash, you take Micho's sector. And Cameron, for the love of God, don't crash us into a ditch on the way back!"

Hoot looked up at the new guy, "Desormeaux! Everything's hostile. You see it, you light it the hell up! Don't get lazy on me now!"

"Yes, Sergeant!" the PFC replied.

We all poured inside the LARA. We were heavy my niece and several other Yukes. We were just a traveling circus and the train had caught fire. "Burn it, Cam! We're Oscar Mike!"

Cameron hit the gas and we sped off onto the muddy road. Soon, everyone in the Company followed suit. As we did, one of the buildings exploded behind us. Through the NVGs and our Day/Night rifle scopes, we saw a ton of enemies running out of the fields.

"They're coming out the woodwork!" Wash shouted.

"All Werewolf Victors, this is Werewolf Alpha, head back onto Route 16 South and push back onto Highway U80! Push! Push!"

The civilians were in the back while we began shooting into the night.

"Who are these people anyway? They don't look like no aid workers I've ever seen!" said Teller.

I became furious. I let off a few more rounds at some enemies hiding in a muddy ditch. "It's a bunch of bull; they're not from White Rose! What were you doing attached to a military convoy unless you're actually their personnel?! Who are you anyway?"

The woman finally spoke in a calm voice. "My name is Dr. Victoria Glass. It was a result of a virus _we_ created."

I was too busy to think as more fire came in. My attention span was all over the place I was worried about Lucy and the enemy's 45th Armored Division firing at us. "Virus, huh? I'm not surprised."

All along the side of the highway, there were enemies. The firing seemed so one sided in the rain. However, the weather was getting better; like it mattered at this point.

"This is Romeo Lima 1 to all Werewolf Victors! We've got enemy armor at three o'clock! They're firing on the highway!" Sheck said.

"Jesus Christ, we're in a bad spot…L-Shaped Ambush and we walked right into the middle of it!" Hoot shouted.

As steel and cordite rain mixed with the real precipitation out there, I saw strange almost monolithic figures in the distance. At a second glance, it was nothing like I'd seen before. It had two long barrels in front and treads that looked spiked. It was a tank alright, but it looked like something that'd been dropped by an alien race and handed straight to the Soma. There was a jolt in my heart, not of fear, but of complete surprise and confusion at what it was I was actually seeing. And now it was possible for such an instrument of destruction to end up in the hands of our enemies. And it was such an instrument because before I could even speak, it let loose a round that exploded right in front of our position. Then it was anger…not fear.

"All Victors, this is Hotel 1…suggest we move to the opposite shoulder now!"

"Roger, all Werewolf Victors turn to the left shoulder, break, break!" Morrison said.

The explosions flashed out our night vision for a moment and if we went off the road, we probably wouldn't have blamed Cameron. Of course, he had no business complaining about anyone's driving though. The blast was a shower of bright scattering lights and from each one of those were lines of shrapnel and scorch that further devastated the ruined ground. It was then, as every radio came on at once and the screams of shock and awe flooded my ears, that whatever these things were…it was no longer in doubt such monsters could destroy helicopters by themselves.

We were, however, faster than the tanks and we raced down U80 at the fastest speed possible. Dickerson told us to maintain dispersion, but what was the point of that? It was only a mad dash to reach the friendly lines.

"This is Juliet Hotel Two, we have a man down! Man down! Bennett is down!" shouted Lieutenant Riba.

Hoot cursed. I knew he was mad because Bennett was a friend of his. Then he turned to me, "Brandon, what's the radio freqs for the nine-line?"

I was pissed. I'd spent over an hour telling Hoot about the radios and the nine-line (aka, the air support frequencies) and he blew his knowledge out the window on me. That redneck, short attention portion of his brain was like a cancerous tumor.

"I told you before the mission! TAD-2 and TAD-8! Not that it'll do any good now!" I said.

And with that, a burst of shrapnel filled the car as Cameron damn near ran off the road again. I was okay, but looked back and saw the two scientists were doubled over bleeding from a few wounds. Then another guy was hit. It was madness. Part of the LARA was smoking and Marco was screaming that his Harpoon gun was down.

"We're hit!" Wash shouted.

"We're not hit! Stop backseat driving!" Cameron shouted.

"Shut up, Cameron…we are hit!" Hoot asked, "Werewolf Charlie, what's Echo Six Bravo's status!?" He was referring to Bennett by the phonetic alphabet.

"Quebec Alpha to all units: be advised, friendly units reentering the lines from Grid 55-XX321. Hold fire to the north." said one of the Vampire units attached to us.

After a few tense minutes while Micho moved to the back to help patch up the two docs, everything was white noise. We finally pulled into friendly lines as I looked back and saw the chaos of the rear. The regular roads were still slick. Cameron, like always, just couldn't quite drive to save us. We were almost into the company area when…

"Slow down!" Hoot ordered.

"I got no brakes! No brakes!" Cameron shouted.

My life flashed before my eyes when Cameron hit the E-Brake and we nearly jackknifed into the company area. We made a rally turn and smashed into a tree, then banged up against another as PFC Desormeaux crashed into me and his SAW discharged into the seat next to me. But no one was there. We were all silent for a long moment.

Hoot admonished Cameron in his _typical _fashion. "Nice driving Cameron. Are you sure it was Bree that had the DUI and not _you_?"

"Well…yeah. That's the reason I'm in the corps." Cameron said, sheepish.

"You Oseans are terrible drivers." The female half of the scientist crew said. She was breathless and gasping for air as I could see the white coat she was wearing now turned red at the shoulder from a stray bullet. But Hoot was not concerned with _that_. Oh, hell no. He had more pressing concerns.

"Hotel 1 to Hotel 2, as it is apparent that one Echo Four Charlie-Charlie can't drive to save his life, you are now the new driver of my vehicle." Hoot said, letting go of the radio.

"Hotel 2, much appreciated." Alphonso replied. I heard him laugh. Hoot slammed the LARA radio down and got out of the vehicle.

LT Dickerson came running up to us. "You guys alright?"

Cameron said coldly, "We'll live."

The LT wondered, "The hostages?"

"Alive, for a change. But we need Doc Gray her." Wash said while trying to tourniquet the Yuke woman.

"Good, let's get them squared away. I'll get the Doc up here." Dickerson said.

I was relieved. I reached down and picked up the emaciated Lucy from the bottom of our vehicle. I then looked to the left and saw Abernathy and Adams restraining two…additional stowaways. I'd forgotten the two had caught the EPWs, or prisoners of war, during the raid on Maurine. It was a man and woman. The black uniforms _they_ were, the unique looking weapons the two guys captured…

They were Dogmen alright. Apparently, Abernathy captured them when they surrendered and Adams bound them with flex-cable. My anger was restrained since they were no threat. I reached into the vehicle and grabbed my canteen, but Lucy, seeing as she needed it, took the initiative and snatched it away from my and before I could even open it. She drank the whole thing. I forgot how Sueltana would often brag about how intelligent and bright Lucy was. It didn't matter now since she couldn't talk. Then I was angry again.

Just as we exited the LARAs and began gathering the team, Lucy was still clinging to me. Soon after she looked up at me, she look forward and her brow furrowed. I looked up and just like that a series of LARAs pulled up. Six individuals got out of them. Four of them were from Recon. The other two were wearing black helmets and Kevlar underneath…_suits_. They wore what I thought were black colored boots. The leaders of the group were the semi-Werewolf S-2 Lieutenant Frost, who spent more time up at Battalion than our own company, and a taller figure of obvious rank. We rarely saw Frost and frankly, most of us didn't care. Few liked the Belkan officer. He was cold, detached and uncaring of anyone else but the people above him. It was difficult to see him beneath the facial shield, but I knew that arrogant gait and those shifty eyes when I saw them.

Funny that Frost often reminded me of Tasha's platoon leader, the equally cold and out of touch Lieutenant Finch. I met him once, and the man seemed to have a personal grudge against Recon. However, he never once showed me any animosity. I knew, of course, of his reputation. Frost, to his credit, was a capable officer, if also an A-hole at times. Finch was an idiot at times…and an A-Hole to boot. I knew then this would lead to disaster if he was allowed to lead people into combat. As I stood there, I realized sister was in Yuktobania and had a man like Finch leading them. I knew it would not end well.

But the other person…he or she looked almost familiar. By now Captain Morrison was around the Senior NCOs and team leaders conducting an after-action meeting. I was still some 10 yards from them while Lucy kept looking up to me. I just rubbed the back of her soaked black hair. Then I looked down and forgot she was barefoot. I put her up on the hood of the LARA as Rico and Micho came over to me. Morrison broke the meeting when he saw the six individuals approaching.

"What the hell?" he said.

"Who are these people?" asked Lieutenant Riba.

Then I had a look at the person. Black hair, very wide hazel eyes, larger than normal forehead…I knew exactly who it was, "Is that Lieutenant Commander Bohr?"

"How did you know? Who is he?" Rico asked.

"_She_. She lives in my parents' neighborhood! She's the XO of Recon Division Medical Staff." I said.

Of course I knew Lt. Cmdr. Bohr. Ally Bohr. That was her real name. She was a rarity in Power Recon. She was one of only seven women in the division, all officers of rear echelon units. How could I not know the woman who'd lived down the street from me for years? She'd watch Tasha and me when we were little kids. Every year on November 29th, they'd fly to November City, but it wasn't for years that I figured out the real reason why. I thought it was just vacation. Bohr was a real brain. She worked at a hospital a county over. She was probably the smartest person in the Division apart from Alphonso. I knew she was in PRD, but I never thought I'd get to see her in person. It was from Bohr that Tasha picked up her unfortunate signing abilities. She'd wail along with all those big band music records Mrs. Bohr played throughout the house.

"What's _Divisional_ Command doing here?!" Rico said, panicked. There had to be something afoot for Division to be in our company area.

"I heard the news." Bohr said. She had a booming northern accent to her voice.

"Can I help you Commander?" Captain Morrison asked.

"I was sent here, along with these two gentlemen from Hephaestus, to inspect casualties under direct orders from General Jones." Bohr said, pointing to the suited men.

I was bewildered. Why was H Corporation here? Where they here to examine the integrity of the suits? That wouldn't have made sense though. It was almost midnight. Though, in the back of my mind…I had a feeling that this may have been what my mother was talking about.

"Umm…ma'am we've we only had four casualties and one of them managed to tourniquet himself." Dickerson said, "The other two were these two hostages."

"I see." Bohr said. She signaled over her two aides and they began stabilizing the Glass couple. They gave them a once over at first, then the taller of the two men looked back at the Lt. Commander.

"We need to get them patched up and back to Battalion HQ for debrief." One of the other extra officers said to Bohr.

Frost interrupted, "Negative. Command has ordered us to detain all hostages and collect intelligence immediately."

Doc Gray intervened. "Sir, these people are wounded…we can't interrogate them now!"

"We also need to get the EPWs to the rear as well." Captain Morrison added.

Frost's voice came out, not surprisingly, like his name. "I repeat. We are to debrief these people immediately. Also, prepare your teams to step off in less than 60 mikes. We have new intelligence about the whereabouts of Codename Kid Vicious."

I didn't care we were going out again. I was still pissed off and I wanted to get some more. However, when I looked right at the Captain's face, as well as the faces of Riba, Adams, and Dickerson, I knew right then there was some discord in the chain of command.

"Lieutenant Frost, I received no such order." Captain Morrison said.

Frost was standing upright, like some Belkan officer in the 1940s. "Colonel Holland informed me of the decision ten mikes before you arrived."

Bohr interrupted, "Who's the kid?"

I said, "Oh, she's my niece."

I wasn't going to openly start calling out the Commander, wondering why she didn't acknowledge my presence. She had more…pressing concerns like getting the wounded people to the right place. The other two doctors were in the process of stabilizing the other two patients. Doc Gray went back to working on Bennett. James was limping around, but he was fine.

All that was what made what happened next…surprising.

Bohr approached me. "Wait…I know you." Bohr said, "Lance Cor…I mean…Corporal Black. I didn't think I'd see you out here. Okay…what's with her?"

Bohr approached Lucy and she recoiled, nearly crawling up hood and onto the turret.

"Commander, she was apparently one of the hostages. There were several bodies in the basement of the building where we found her. Her tongue was…removed by the Dogmen, probably sometime during the day." Dickerson said.

Bohr recoiled. Her face was one of complete disgust. She couldn't even formulate a response initially. However, before she could speak. Frost approached her and started asking her all kinds of questions. Lucy facial expressions turned from scared to sheer terror in a hurry. The _last_ thing this girl needed was to be yelled at. And what the hell was she going to say anyway?!

Perhaps the pantomiming that Lucy started doing made him suspicious. I didn't know what she was doing though.

"What is she asking for? Who did this to you? Where are your superiors?" asked Frost. I wanted to pull my hair out. I wanted to scream at this blatant act of stupidity rarely found in Recon. Everyone was ready to roll their eyes at this display. I was ready to take action. I wanted to scream my head off at this guy, one more added layer of unneeded bureaucracy in our seamless Company, much less Battalion. However, like any good leader would, my Team Sergeant spoke for me.

"Sir! SHE CAN'T TALK!" Sheckenhousen roared.

The Belkan was clearly angrier than me. After all, he probably expected more from one of his own countrymen.

"Staff Sergeant Sheckenhousen, you are way out of line…" Frost countered.

Commander Bohr cut him off. "Lieutenant Frost, shut up. You need to snap to. Everyone's on edge and you're not making things any better. Why don't you make yourself useful and take the EPWs on in?"

"Yes. Ma'am." Frost said. Frost gathered a few of the guys standing around to secure and take the enemy POWs into custody.

"I hate that man," she said under her breath, "Now, the girl and the scientist here. We need to get them to an intensive care unit ASAP. God knows how badly infected that injury is."

Then, Lucy jumped down onto the soggy ground and started signaling with her hands. She was scribbling her right finger into her left hand. The longer it took us to guess what she wanted, the faster and obviously more frustrated she got.

"She wants something to write on." I said.

One of the H-Corp people produced a pen and paper and handed to me. I gave it to Lucy and she started scribbling on it for about thirty seconds. By now the rain had completely stopped. She then handed it back to me, but the Commander took it from my hands.

"What is this? Chicken scratch?" Bohr said. She lifted up the visor on her helmet to see what the paper said. Lucy was up in arms at this point. Whatever it was, it was obviously important. Finally, I just forcefully took the paper back from the Lt. Commander.

"It's Yuke," I read the words she wrote. "It says: monsters…something about a virus…something called Merkava…wait, that's the capital of the Hazri…gigantic tanks…Samizat? What the heck?"

"_Samizat_? What the hell _is_ that?" Rico said, in the background.

Bohr's eyes bulged as if a light bulb went off in her head. "Samizat…hmm, the general will be pleased to hear that. So you're…what's her name again?"

"Lucia Devia. We just call her Lucy." I said.

Bohr reached her hand out to Lucy for a moment and after a tense few seconds, she grabbed Bohr's hand telling her it would be alright. "I see. You're a brave kid. Anyway," she said, turning to us, "We need to get her back to the rear."

Of course she needed to be! But I knew Yuktobania was the last place she needed to be. She needed to be a place of peace for a change. Since I knew Bohr…I wondered if I could get her safely to Alaska. Bohr knew my parents very well. After all, Bohr's father had worked on the Sand Island Air Base mechanical staff twenty seven years ago.

Dickerson read my mind. "She needs to be as far away from here as possible. She needs to be with the next of kin…and I would assume her aunt and uncle would be that, correct?"

I replied, "Yeah. She has no grandparents. My parents are the only physical family she's got. They live in Alaska, a town called Pikes Hugo."

"Calypso Gamma to Calypso Sigma," Bohr said over the radio referencing the Division level callsigns. "We are preparing to RTB with priority casualties." She then turned back to us…and me. "I can't make any promises, but I'll do everything I can. I owe it to them."

Bohr winked right at me. I handed Lucy to her and with her left hand, she simply waved at me. The other people with her began to help gather the wounded Dr. Glass and his better half. They put Lucy and the others in a special looking LARA, one with more armor and no outside modules, and sped off into the night. I was not sure why the H Corporation people needed to be here. However, at this point it was irrelevant.

For a moment, I felt empty. It was a neutral feeling. We'd failed our mission to capture Kid Vicious but Lucy was alive and I'd solved another piece of the puzzle. Our allies in the Airborne probably were hurting dearly, but no Marines on our side had been killed. It was not a win or a loss. It was just something that went into the tie column on the box score.

For Captain Morrison, it was much different and I could tell. He was angry, not at us, but everything that had happened. He had every right to be. There was a long period of silence as Morrison began querying command about what was going on. Lucy, G1, Samizat, the Dogmen, Kid Vicious, Bohr, Frost…nothing made sense at the moment.

"Guys, we're being held back until Command unscrews itself. Until then, get some shut eye while you can." Captain Morrison. "It's been a difficult night for everybody. Just calm down, clear your mind and don't dwell on what happened. We still have fighting ahead."

In the distance, I heard the distant booms of battle. By now, the rainstorm had cleared and low flying A-10s from Loyalist army began strafing runs. I wouldn't sleep. I was too pissed off to sleep. There was plenty of time to sleep when we were dead; or rather, the enemy at least.

**0200 hrs**

Then again, who had time to sleep really? We had to pull back from our previous positions while everyone else got moved up the line. In the distance, there was constant battle and there was no way to know what was going on. It seemed almost unfair, but orders were orders. That meant digging holes at two in the morning. Command was all over the nets trying to figure out what was going on. There was constant talk about the new enemy tanks.

"Man, we almost got smoked. That was pretty damn close." Walt said.

"What in the hell was that tank? I've never seen anything like it." Micho said, "Could it be that thing Lucy was talking about?"

Alphonso was sitting in his fighting hole munching on some peanut butter and crackers he'd fished from his MRE kit. "Gentleman, the war's not as easy as it looks." Alphonso says, "I've said it a million times, but it's one ear and out the other with you people."

Hoot then added his two cents from some ten meters away. "I guess you're going to enlighten us with the entire encyclopedia chronicle of how the old timers cut tongues out of the mouth of little kids for kicks, huh?"

"Actually, you're not far off Sergeant. I'm actually surprised it's not happening more often. The Hazri used to do that to their slaves in ancient times. That's how you keep control of slaves: keep them illiterate, keep silent. Remember, the Hazri Yukes are the only people left in the world whose society hasn't changed considerably much since man stopped using bronze and used iron weapons instead." Alphonso said.

Something triggered in my brain. For a moment, I was still trying to joke and laugh with Micho and Walt. I did everything I could to take my mind off hatred and revenge. But as I listened to Alphonso's words…it finally became clear that he wasn't just droning on about his favorite subject. He was right all the time. Some part of me thought he hated being right that much. He never took pleasure in the truth of history. He just knew it far too well. Then again, who else really took _true_ pleasure in knowledge that most people didn't care for anyway? It was either people who just smarter than everyone else…or people with too much time on their hands. Alphonso fit in both categories. Hell, we all fit in the latter one. No one could tell me that those hours of sitting around digging fighting holes, cleaning our weapons and watching the main line of resistance weren't indicative of us having far too much time on our hands.

"Where are you going?" Micho asked.

I pointed to Alphonso, "I'm going to go be that guy's friend."

Micho laughed wildly. I ignored it mostly and walked over to Alphonso. Desormeaux and Demetrius Wash were near him. Wash was probably one of the more private people in the company. It made sense for him considering he and Abernathy were members of the sniper team. However, Abernathy usually floated around the teams whenever they needed eyes for a Recon mission. Power Recon's lower numbers reflected that. Wash was, in many ways, the anti-Walter Snow. They were both black, but Wash simply looked the part with his ripped muscles and gargoyle like stance. He had almost complete mastery of unarmed fighting skills and could kill anything from one yard to a thousand. Not to mention he didn't sit around bitching about every little thing and didn't believe a woman's place was only in the kitchen, with the kids, and the bedroom.

"Dude, I think you're too smart for us. You should have gone into Delta Force or the SEALs instead Power Recon." Wash said.

"The only differences between them and us are the suits and the training time. How much does Osea spend on us Power Recon guys? We have to go to basic training, Recon School which consists of weeks of class work, Airborne School, Mountain Warfare School, Special Operations, Naval Assault. That's over half a million to train us up." Alphonso said.

His words took me back to those days in Recon training. We were trained how to climb mountains and jump out of airplanes. We applied them to urban assaults. However, we were in an open battleground and we were pretty much unparalleled in our strength…until this night. It seemed there was another terror out there: those monster tanks.

"Sometimes I wish I'd stayed in BUDs instead of going to this place." Alphonso said.

"I didn't know you did the SEAL training, Al." Wash said.

Alphonso laughed. "I was tapped for the PRD when we were doing our explosives training. I made it through Hell Week and everything. But I didn't want to come initially. I'd left the MP Company I was with to do BUDs. My instructors actually encouraged me to go. But I didn't want to at first. I was having so much fun being a SEAL trainee."

"What caused you to change your mind?" I asked.

"You know the funny thing about this? Kate and I were supposed to be in the church saying the vows today. Instead, what did I do? I drove an assault vehicle full of immature kids and insane men with weapons to _fight_ immature _Yuktobanian_ kids and insane men with weapons. And for what…a pair of scientists and a kid who can't talk anymore." Alphonso said, "Yet, I wouldn't change it. I came here to make a difference and if I must fight and kill others to do it…then so be it."

I sensed the cynicism in his voice. I never thought doubt would creep inside Alphonso Adair. I added, "…and Kate understands, right?"

"Of course." Alphonso said, looking up at us.

"I know it drives you nuts to hear the other guys talking about Kate all the time, Corporal." Desormeaux added.

Alphonso sighed. "It bothers me a little. However, I don't dwell on it. These other guys, I never believe a word they say about their girls. You learn a lot about people from whom they date. I know…I've served for six years and I've seen it many times. They have these extremely beautiful women and they brag about them like their sports teams. They act like they're just _blessed_ to have them and yet, they're always the first ones in the strip clubs or the brothels. They spend all their energy making their girl the object of everyone else's envy and they're usually the first ones broken up."

Hoot came over to us, "Hey, Preacher! You and Mr. Excitement get your asses over here! We got a Team meeting."

Alphonso and I laughed as soon as Wash and PFC Desormeaux walked away. "Then again," Corporal Adair said, "If I were in the SEALs, I wouldn't have men like Hoot around. Some find him obnoxious. I find him a comedy routine that can rival well crafted, hilarious cinema."

Only Alphonso would say something like that. We gathered around Dickerson's LARA. I was anxious to hear what the LT would say. I was hoping we'd go back out and kill some Dogmen. For the light hearted moments, the fact I was still vengeful didn't change a thing.

"Okay gentlemen. Here's the situation. As most of us found out, the entire raid turned out to be ambush. We put ourselves in a bad spot, but we were lucky to get out alive. Unfortunately, we're going back into the frying pan."

"We're going back into the hornet's nest again!? We almost got wasted by those tanks, sir! Vicious is probably long gone!" Walt said. But his voice was more worry than complaint. Then again, he did call it. He _did_ have a bad feeling about the last one.

"That is a possibly. But it seems G1 and CENTCOM feel otherwise. We've just found out the possible whereabouts of Vicious from the EPWs that Sergeant Adams and Lance Corporal Abernathy caught. The intel was relayed to command and we're on point again. With some help from our friends in the LEO, we've found that the Loyalists aren't the only ones using child soldiers to disrupt things. Those two EPWs we caught, neither of them were over nineteen…if that. However, it seems with some…motivation from the Soma, they were conscripted in the ranks; rather, forced at gunpoint if you want to get specific. As such, they were more than happy to give us information."

I was not surprised. I knew Dogmen would have men of various ages fighting in their ranks. There were more than a few teenaged soldiers we found among the Dogmen's dead days prior. In the distance, there was a massive explosion that made us all turn.

Dickerson continued, "The Dogmen elite are wise to our act. They may be crazy, but they're not going to underestimate us again. We crushed them the first time, but over the past 48 hours these irregulars have been punching back pretty damn hard. It's the fiercest resistance we've ever encountered. But with the air and arty we're now putting on Lower Gublina, they won't be as much a threat. However, this is probably a harbinger of things to come in Severja, our main objective in this region."

Dickerson pulled out his map and using a IR flashlight, he detailed the AO to us.

"The push for Severja cannot begin until we've fully owned Lower Gublina, and that won't happen with the Soma and the Dogmen are in a cohesive command. Nor will it be easy, as you've no doubt found out. We've learned that Vicious is taking temporary refuge inside a ruined chemical plant 10 klicks north of St. Marie du Maurine. It was apparently where they staged the ambush in the city. For whatever reason, Vicious hasn't left the area. Some in the S-2 shop theorize that the Apache Woman and Kid Vicious are some internal struggle. It seems the Apache doesn't tolerate failure and has pretty much left our target out to dry."

Internal struggle? It seemed too good to be true. Maybe, in some bizarre world, the Apache Woman, whoever the heck she was, was not too pleased with the Kid because of his brutality. Then again, a Yuktobanian Woman with the name Apache didn't seem a kind person either. Maybe she was even more brutal. I considered asking Suzie about it, but she was hopped up on meth for now. There was no sense in talking to that motor mouth. Seto and Tatiana were both missing.

"So much for death before dishonor." Sheckenhousen added.

Another loud explosion in the distance. "That would be the Air Force B-52s playing mind games with the enemy." Dickerson said. We all laughed. He continued, "1st Marines are about 20 hours from our position. But we're not taking any chances this time. We're rolling with AS from 82nd to our left flank."

He said AS like "ass". That, in Marine Corps jargon, meant heavy armor. But the Airborne's heavy armor meant older Bradleys and Strikers; which meant they were going to slow us down. I didn't question that the new program of military doctrine involving technology had not flowed to every branch of the military. It seemed like only we in Power Recon were the cutting edge of this new warfare. I didn't care. I joined because I wanted to defend Osea. I was in Yuktobania to fight a war. It was a war that caused my girlfriend to be worried about her life and mine every night. It was a war that caused my sister's daughter to be unable to speak. It was enough to make me go insane.

"Mad respect for the Stratofortress." Wash said.

Sheck spoke up again, "Sir, with all due respect…this sounds like another suicide mission. I don't like this one bit. I assume they're sending out a Recon mission first."

Dickerson's brow furled. I could tell he was ticked off that Sheck, of all people, would show apprehension. It was not a good sign of an assistant team leader.

"I don't like your lack of aggressiveness, Sheck…but you _are_ right. Division has ordered Raptor to do Recon of the area first. They have until 0600 to get into position. The area around the target is very tenuous. We're going to have friendly forces and enemies mixed together. If our eyes from Raptor spot those strange tanks are in the area, we're aborting the assault. Otherwise, we rush. I know this mission sounds pell-mell, but we _have_ to stay aggressive. We can't afford not to; not against these psycho soldiers. We know what they're capable of and we have to be next to crazy ourselves to show them we're not screwing around either."

We were going to attack either way. But the fact we were depending upon Raptor Company to provide us with intel made us a little worried. We wouldn't be traveling with the LEO or Vampire backup this time. We did have AS, but they'd already be attacking up the line. We were the ones going into the fire.

"Get some rest; we got a lot of fighting ahead." The Lieutenant said.

I still couldn't sleep. I wouldn't sleep until this was over. I felt confident we'd catch that terrorist bastard on the second try. I was about to walk away when Dickerson stopped me.

"Sir?" I said.

"Captain Morrison told me to tell you that he'd give you the option of sitting this one out. He's afraid you're going to rogue or something." He said.

I was appalled. I wanted to be back in the game. "That's ridiculous. I'm not sitting out, sir."

Dickerson smiled. "Good then. How are you on sleep?"

"Thirty six, no sleep, sir."

"Then I'm ordering you to get some rest." He said with a smile on his face. "Keep your head up."

Dickerson walked away. I just stood there and thought even though Dickerson did grate on me every now and then, I was very thankful the LT was our Team Leader. But how was I supposed to put what I saw out of my head so quickly. We had a mission coming up and it all depended on Raptor's recon. I walked slowly to my fighting hole and sat in it. I couldn't breathe for a moment. _My God_, I thought, _what was I going to tell my parents?_

***

**August 27, 2037**

**0440 hrs**

I woke up in my fighting hole near the 04 LARA. Most of us, at one point, were steamed over the sudden order to go back out into the fire. Especially since that fire had nearly consumed us its jaws of heat and metal. I didn't care. But ahead was Lower Gublina. Gublina was a vast, low mountainous area that saw winter come early every year. My mother was shot down and got lost in the deep woods of Upper Gublina years before I was born. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I poked around my ruck for my mother's diary. I flipped through the worn pages for her misadventure into the mountains of this vast, muddy land. I still heard the sounds of battle in the distance. There was no telling what Gublina would look like when 1st Marines and Power Recon was done with it. The Gublina entry took up nearly five pages. I did find the one part that mattered to me though.

_November 19, 2010 – "…and I was glad to be back. However, I could only think about the strange dreams I had the night in the frozen forest hell of Gublina. There was only one I remembered and it was Blaze's face. I was just staring at him from behind a mirror. I called out to him but I could only see the face. It was one of complete shock, disappointment, and hate behind it. It was all because of my mistake. Ever since I'd first known him, I never wanted to let him down. One foolish mistake after another and it was all over a concern with whereabouts of Captain Bartlett. Because of it, I hurt the only man I've truly cared for. When I'm around him, I am felicitous. I can allow my heart to skip a few beats without dying and it makes the macabre art of killing a little more tolerable. It drove me insane because all I could do was dream about him back at Sand Island or the future I wanted to have so desperately with him along side me. I wanted to be the woman whom he could tell other people how much he loved me. I wanted to be the girl who he held in the middle of the winter night and be warmed by my skin while I moaned his name. It was a crushing sense as I felt out of place because all I wanted that night was to hear his voice and see him one more time. To do that, I had to survive. For one day, I cast aside my preconceived notions of morality and I'd do anything and everything, both honorable and horrible, to get back to Blaze..."_

My mother felt the same way about my dad as I did for Dulcinea in my dreams. That crushing sense of purpose and isolation was eating at me. Then I too began to feel hatred. This was not hatred as result of some mistake I made. It was hate because of what this war had done to my family; what war in _general_ had done to my family. It killed Catherine Lovecraft, my sister before I was born. Lucia Devia would no longer could to speak properly, if that. My sister was over here and the man she was infatuated with was also over here as well. I was sitting in a fighting hole while my parents tried to take care of a lonely eleven year old girl who had to sit in class everyday with twenty other students and all three were wondering if Tasha and I were coming home alive or in a body bag.

I had to talk to Dulcinea. I knew she often slept with her Queue near her head and it was designed to make a beeping noise when a message was received.

**Wake up.**

**Dulcinea: You do realize it's four in the ******* morning, right?**

**It's not easy for any of us.**

**Dulcinea: I know you're having a hard time out there. The only thing you have to do…we have to do, is to endure; to take it, Brandon. We've both made the choice few else were willing to face: the right choice. I chose to be here among starving and sick. You made the choice to strap on a gun and shoot at the people who caused this."**

**Dulcinea, what's really going on in BP?**

**Dulcinea: To be honest, I have no idea anymore. Now that the Osean Army is arriving, I'm not that hopeful things will be better. We're running low on everything and the military isn't helping us. They're taking up the space we used for extra patients. We're being hedged out. I had to move out of the room I was in. I'm sleeping on the floor in the lobby, but I can't even get a moment to sleep lately. I imagine I'm like you: I've only slept eight hours in the last two.**

**I was on thirty six hours with no sleep! I've slept nine hours in six days. **

**Dulcinea: Showoff.**

**Did you expect anything less? Good news though…I found Lucy.**

**Dulcinea: Wow! Is she alright? Is she coming to Bethlehem?**

**I think so. One of the officers up at Division's trying to pull some strings to get her to my parents. **

**Dulcinea: Good luck. Well, I'm going back to sleep and you to yours. Just don't die on me, honey…okay? Love you.**

**I know.**

I closed the Queue. I let my eyes close again and I fell back into the arms of sleep. I didn't like to lie to Dulcinea. I knew she _hated_ being lied to. I couldn't tell her the truth about Lucy yet. I couldn't tell my parents. I couldn't bring myself to at the time. My mother would be horrified beyond belief. She'd certainly seen her bad times in war, but Wardog 2, Edge…my mom had not seen what I'd seen. As I drifted back into sleep, I wondered how my dad would react. He'd be furious and my dad was not a person to get easily angered. His fury was, if my mother's diary said, a slow burn. But when he exploded…he exploded with vengeance and furious anger. And silence.

**0600 hrs**

"_Brandon! Get up!"_

"What?!" I said. I was in the middle of my fighting hole underneath one of the light Kevlar-weaved blankets we carried in our rucks. I looked up and saw Lieutenant Dickerson staring right at me.

"Get your stuff ready. We're assaulting the chemical factory in less than ten minutes." He said.

I climbed out of my hole and grabbed my weapon. "Oh…what?! I mean, what, sir? What about Raptor's Recon?"

"They screwed it up. They ran out of time. Good thing you weren't at the HQ. Colonel Holland was pissed." Dickerson said, referring to our rather animated Battalion Commander.

Now _I_ was pissed off. Raptor failed to do their job and we would have to make a pell-mell rush. We started to gather our equipment in a mad rush for the LARAs. Everyone was trying to strap on ammo, check weapons and relieve themselves before jumping off on the mission. I jumped in and found Alphonso behind the wheel of the LARA and I knew it had to tick off Hoot.

"This has to be the dumbest thing we've ever done!" Sheck shouted from across the company area.

Cameron was running towards LARA behind us after being demoted to the 02 LARA's driver. However, I didn't understand why anyone in the truck, Josh, Kell or Sgt. Adams would put their lives in the hands of Cameron Craft, newly crowned worst driver in the company.

"Think about it, we have the element of surprise on our side. They'll never expect this!" Hoot said, howling.

"Yeah, because assaulting a chemical factory in broad daylight in a place where they're tanks that shot down helicopters makes perfect sense!" Alphonso said, bitterly.

"What, that's apart from Eric putting glue on the toilet seats back in Recon training?" said Corporal Elliot Pinter, who slowed down to a walk just enough to talk and then ran past us. Pinter had a unique animal like hearing ability. Or at least that's what he told us. I didn't believe it.

"Well, Raptor's guys screwed up the Recon. Blame them!" Wash added.

"Dude, we're going up against those freak tanks from last night, man! This is madness!" Desormeaux said.

Everyone was in the LARAs except for a few guys who were lagging behind. Walt, not surprisingly, was one of them. He ran back from the woods after a nature call as Hoot was shouting for him.

"Come on Walt! We're Oscar Mike! Get your ass in the van!" Hoot yelled, his inner hick voice coming out in full bloom.

"Al, turn it over. Just don't pull a Cameron and crash us into a ditch!"

Walt climbed into the LARA and we began to peel off. Where we were, we had to cross five klicks to get back to the highway we traveled on last night. Then we had to stay on U80 highway the entire time until we got to the cutoff zone at Route 10 then haul it to the chemical factory. Mud was everywhere as we slid out of the area. The windshield was covered in dust and pieces of sludge. But apparently, Alphonso didn't care. There were Harriers above as we pulled out of the company area. Desormeaux screamed _get some_, but I didn't really care.

"Do we have comms with the Harriers?" Hoot asked.

"TAD 16 and 19 for the Marine units. That's all I know." I said. I did my homework on the freqs before I slept, and I already set them. But I just couldn't avoid Sergeant Teller asking me about the comms _again_.

I wiped my mind clean of the outside thoughts. I put Dulcinea out of my mind. I had only two concerns: Lucy and Kid Vicious. I was still in my original sector and Micho was in his. Then Micho started humming this old love song and I wanted to tell him to shut up. I didn't though. It seemed strange he'd do this, even when he'd seen the same thing I saw. However, maybe because Lucy wasn't family to him he could try to distract himself from the horror much easier than I could. No one spoke for the first ten or fifteen minutes though. As we crossed into the battle zone…all we saw were plumes of smoke.

"Werewolf Alpha to all Werewolf Victors. Stay sharp. We're crossing the magic line. Be careful of blue on blue fire when we cross onto the U82 from the 80. It seems 101st has retaken a small portion of the area in our AO."

Still, no one spoke except Micho's humming. No one seemed to care about that though. However, as we crossed onto the main highway…the complete devastation of the previous night came into full bloom.

"Damn, son! Look at all this!" Walt said, noticing the detritus.

I was amazed. The landscape, from a topographical view, was little different than the previous night. But on top of the ground were every piece of ruin anyone could imagine. The road was bumpy from the bombs and tank rounds. It was amazing the LARAs could even get over these obstructions. There were burned out and destroyed vehicles, mud, pools of dried blood and bodies all over the road. Friendly, enemy, it didn't matter. Bodies were _everywhere_.

"Soma tanks did all this?" PFC Desormeaux said.

Alphonso's voice was very reserved. "Those Airborne guys were fighting a legit enemy."

Hoot got on the radio as soon as we began to see grunts from the Airborne taking up defensive positions around their Strykers. They were collecting the dead from the vehicles. Some of the Airborne were covering up the fallen with tarps. I did see one woman among those doing the covering; probably an MP or a rear echelon person cleaning up the mess.

The entire U80 was a view to an open air graveyard of fallen religious fanatics and their armor. But oddly enough, I didn't see a _single_ wreck of whatever those monster tanks were. It was almost as if the Dogmen were cognizant enough to take the ruins with them. I thought I should have given the Dogmen a little more credit. Well, maybe not.

"This is Hotel 1; I got friendly units to our nine coming up. 101st probably. It should be on TAC now."

As we passed at a slow speed to avoid the craters in the road, I saw the woman staring right at me and I saw Dulcinea's face. The female Airborne soldier looked so much like my girlfriend. And for a brief moment, I saw my love. We were brown eye to blue eye. Her blonde hair was much, much shorter though. She was beautiful though, even with the M-16 slung on her shoulder. I shook my head and Dulcinea was gone. There was only the name and face of the Airborne woman.

I could only see agony in her face. Her friends, the other guys in her group were lifting a body out of the destroyed Stryker. I glassed her name patch. It read _Magnusson_. If she were back in 1995, she may have been doing that for the Belkans. Here, she didn't care where that dead soldier was from. She could have been from Sheck's hometown of Dinsmark and that fallen paratrooper could have been from Oured. It didn't matter to her. She was protecting her friends to the bitter end, some of whom had already seen that unfortunate reality.

She took her eyes off me almost in shame and went back to her grim task of collecting the dead.

"Werewolf Beta, this is Lima 1, interrogative: what's taking the TAC so long to bring up the friendly units? Those techs in the Division 2 must be slacking off again." Sheckenhousen said, referencing the intelligence department at Power Recon HQ.

I could sense that Dickerson was losing his patience with the "Lima 1, it's a plausible theory, but there's just too much chaos in the general area for everything to be up to date."

I was amazed not only at the destruction…but at the Soma themselves. Their religion was one of low context and secrecy. Of course, Walt would have liked it since they made their women wear cloths over their faces and have no freedom. Maybe the Tatars should have finished the goddamn job hundreds of years ago and wiped out the Hazri, burned their cities and killed everyone they found. The certainly could have. We were paying the price for some ancient blood rivalry. The men and women who'd died fighting the so-called elite Soma died because of someone else's hatred. I was furious at the Hazri and their backwards thinking. I could not feel any sympathy for their fallen as their bodies were all over the place. That reasoning was why I was fighting this war. But I was not angry at being in Yuktobanian horror movie. I was just angry at the cause of it. All we knew about was some virus. That was it. At least we had a piece of the puzzle. We grunts were too dumb to put the whole picture together yet, but if we did we'd probably find that the answer was right there in front of us.

It was enough to make me hate the Hazri for this war and what they did to Lucia. I hated the Hazri and their idiotic culture.

"I thought we had it bad last night." Walt said.

"Wait, are those civilians up there?" Hoot asked.

I wasn't looking at them. I couldn't look away from the twisted hulks of Apache helicopters, burned out BMPs and T-90 hulks of enemy tanks. But I couldn't look any more when I saw the bodies of an elderly couple. They were covered in blood and were nearly in a full embrace. They died together. I knew they wanted to die together, but not like that. Not executed by crazed soldiers or caught in the crossfire. The Dogmen weren't soldiers. They weren't even terrorists. They were animals. They were even lower than the most depraved member of our Division: us, Power Recon Division's Teenage Wasteland killers. The Dogmen were lower than filth or even whale excrement.

"There is something seriously wrong about this." Alphonso said.

"What was your first clue?" I said sardonically.

Alphonso only response: "Stay frosty."

Micho tried to lighten things up, "I guess this isn't the best time to finish the Hollywood story, eh Brandon?"

I was silent for a moment. Then I went insane. I tried the same strategy as Micho. Last night he was bummed out because of the destruction. Now, he'd become a psycho and tried to joke just to dull the terror from his mind. So I did as well…

"Well, I did sort of get to be D'Shubert's personal assistant for the day. And I was an extra in one of the episodes." I said. It came out so weird but no one else noticed.

"You're kidding!" said Marco.

"If I'm lying, I'm dying!" I said, a bit softer than I wanted to. But then…

"Don't say things like that, Brandon. Be careful what you wish for." Cameron said. His sense of humorlessness had sucked the life out of the LARA.

I didn't care about dying anymore. All I wanted and all the enemy deserved was at that chemical factory and if I died…I'd would have died well. I was being a bit selfish, but I'm sure Dulcinea would understand. I knew she would. She would have told me to do it. Maybe. Maybe not. I brass checked my X-88. I was ready. I wanted the blood of the animals. Then I thought…maybe I was an animal too.

***

**Meanwhile…**

_**Tasha**_

**Bethlehem Park, Royelle District**

**0738 hrs**

My brother was in the middle of the chaos in Lower Gublina. I'd have given anything to be there with him. But as I sat on the dock bench next to Xanthia, Jason and Charles eating these stale MREs for breakfast, there was a part of me that was glad to be here among friends. But that part was fading pretty darn fast.

I had no idea what was going on anymore. We'd only been in country for _one_ day and already orders changed faster than a well endowed, blonde Sand Island girl changed her bras. We were ordered to take this super secret stuff to BP, or Bethlehem Park as the grunts called it. The problem was tenfold. Areas we thought were secure, they made us go Red Con One, which mean our bullets were in our guns but safeties were on. That was not the SOP from the start. Then, by the time we reached the magic line…they tell us to go safe. Then back to Condition One, and just one event in a long chain of chaotic and idiotic events took place. Donald in the 07 truck had an accidental discharge of his SAW, which wasn't a surprise considering that SAWs were notoriously easy to accidentally fire. But the bullet narrowly missed William's head but knocked out his Blue Force Tracker.

My brother had no more need for belt fed weapons. Ironic…since it seemed everyone else was using them but Power Recon. In some of my angry moments, I thought my brother was like that baseball team with the absurd payroll. They were in their own reality and ignorant of everyone else's. Then again, they _were_ supposed to be an elite unit.

Then there was Lt. Finch who got us lost when he made a miscalculation on his map, which was actually _two decades out of date_. However, that wasn't exactly his fault. It was more the S-2 and S-4's mistake. But then again, that turn was the same on both maps so no…it was Finch's mistake after all. Then it got worse when Finch picked up a couple of enemy AKs that were lying in the middle of a field while we got turned around. He started shooting one of them off and Parker, the new guy, panicked and almost lit up our platoon leader. He missed though. However, Finch still had the AKs by the time we got to BP. I was not happy at all. I almost wished Parker had put one in Finch.

Bethlehem Park was not a glamorous place by any means. It was just a bunch of tents, warehouses, office buildings, and junk from the last wars here. Now we were at the ass end of it waiting for orders that Command screwed up. I was disappointed in the good leaders. Adams and Carlton were screwing up too. It was not a good way to start a war.

I did the only thing I could think of to pass time and keep entertained.

"Come on Caroline…won't you play my game? Come on Caroline, that angel heart's your fame. And all I know when the lights go down are those heaven blues and your earthen curls in my hand…Dear Caroline, I can't tell you how much I miss your burning tan…" I sung to the top of my lungs.

Charles cut me off, "Okay, that's enough _Dear Caroline_. It makes you sound like a lesbian when you sing that song."

It _was_ a song to a woman, but the song actually better served a female voice, one who could _actually_ sing as opposed to me.

I put on my sweet voice. "Well, if you won't let me sing my favorite song, then why don't you tell me what's so bad about my Rico, huh?"

"Fine," Charles said. There was this long dramatic pause. "Dulcinea and Rico…they were a couple once."

I should have been shocked, but at first I wasn't so much. I couldn't figure why. It was obvious, or at least it should have been. I realized though that it wasn't enough to indict anyone.

"Really?" I said.

Charles took a deep breath. "It was a cold and snowy day. It happened years ago…"

Xantha interrupted, "How did you know Rico so well?"

"I'm getting to that, Zanne! Geez. I went to the same high school he did: St. San Julliard in November City. " Charles continued. "Jason did too."

Xanthia scoffed. "I know about that place. That school is a cesspool of vain, over-privileged, overindulged, gossipy, jerks that drive expensive cars bought by their corrupt, sleazy parents."

Jason cut in, "You pretty much hit the nail on the head there, Zanne. St. Julliard was more of a country club than a high school."

"Now, speaking of Rico, he was the _man_ at our school. He had the looks, the money, and the car. He had it all. With only me and Jamie in his social circle no one ever found out about our…nocturnal exploits."

There was a lump in my throat. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

I was not the one who got all the boys in high school. I wore glasses for Christ's sake! No guy wanted to talk to me. It was where I developed my off and on cynical view of the world. I was able to see everything as it was and saved my rose-tinted glasses for my brother's dreams.

"Man, Rico and I were all over the ladies. We had girlfriends left and right. But we were smart. We never made the rounds with the chicks at our school. No, we took our conquests cross town, out of town."

Xanthia said, "That was pretty smart, if not complete and utter sexual malevolence."

Xanthia often used her big words to demonstrate her intelligence. I knew she was smart, though sometimes I wondered if she was merely covering for her partial inner city culture. It didn't seem arrogant though, it just seemed a bit excessive. We all knew Xanthia was smart even though she'd been busted for shoplifting, got pregnant at seventeen and did coke at one point. But Rico's days were in the past. Rico had a hard time just looking at another woman! The past was the past and I decided to humor Charles.

"Now that's not fair, Zanne. We were careful. No one ever got wise with our acts." He continued.

"And how is this relevant to Rico now?" I asked.

Jason continued, "Well, the summer before our senior year…we were getting a bit tired of our exploits. It was just too easy. We didn't have to convince any girl. We just asked. You'd be _amazed_ how easy some of the girls were in November City. It's like Hollywood North, it's unbelievable."

"But I assume your reputation caught up with you, right?" I added.

"Well…that too, but we didn't appreciate the true value of a relationship." Charles said.

"That's kinda what happens when you're sleeping around with every easy chick in the city." I said coldly.

Charles continued, "One of my buddies from English had to work his ass off trying to maintain a relationship with this one girl. But, he got dumped by her and went and slept with some guy with more bank and a better looking face. After I got finished nailing her, I realized that _maybe_…I needed a change in my life. I did feel bad for Brad. I mean, he killed himself…but that's a whole different tale."

I was shocked. This is the man who was giving me relationship advice? "Jesus Christ. You are complete pig, Charles. I'm sure there's some special place in hell for people like you."

But as I said that, I realized I couldn't have it both ways. I couldn't call out Rico for his past, but calling out Charles for his when he was friends with Rico? It didn't make sense.

"And I'll be sure to make reservations for you and your brother." Charles retorted, "Now, here's where it gets interesting. That summer, he meets this beautiful sixteen year old girl. Her dad's moving there on business and he meets her. Her name? Dulcinea Dasana."

There was this long pause in me and doubt crept in. But I played it off. "Ah, and another piece of the puzzle falls into my lap."

Jason continued, "Oh, it's not quite that…yet. Dulcinea was _gorgeous_. She was so attractive that if she was an angel, God would have kicked out all the other winged folks."

"And…what happened between them?" I asked.

Just as I asked that question, I found myself accosted by the last person I wanted to see: Lieutenant Finch. He came running over past all the trucks at the docks. We were supposed to be moving out again in an hour or so but knowing Finch…we probably had a seizure or something and thought he was under attack. I saw he _still_ had that damn AK-47. It was funny, Finch and the rest of us in the 154 were made fun of by the line companies for being POGs, people other than grunts. I wanted to tell Finch to leave the souvenir gathering to those who earned it on the battlefield. But the LT was in _complete_ hysteria.

"Lance Corporal. There you are! I heard the news. You have my sympathies." He said.

All my brain cells shut down. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Your brother was a good man, and he died fighting a legit enemy." He said.

My soul collapsed and I felt split in half in one second. All this worrying about Rico and my brother was gone?! I was literally in a black hole. I had nothing inside of me. "WHAT?! My brother's dead!?"

Then, out of the blue…Master Sergeant Abernathy came running up. Abernathy was a popular soldier in the company, despite being a strict disciplinarian. Abernathy was one of the few soldiers in 3/5 that'd been in the Corps since Osea went to war with Versua in 2016. His sons, Shane and Adrian were both Power Recon soldiers. He always stuck up for us even when certain officers and other old NCOs wouldn't.

"Damn it, Lieutenant, I would appreciate you not giving my platoon mates false information!" he shouted.

Finch angrily turned to the Master Sergeant and from a physical standpoint, it was like a long legged spider turning and facing a tarantula.

"When you address an officer Master Sergeant, you are expected to say _sir_! I don't care if you'd been the service since the last war! And when I'm speaking to someone you don't interrupt me unless you're spoken too…and no one goddamn spoke to you!" he said in his high and whiny voice.

_This retard is in charge of people_, I thought. _Is my brother dead or not?!_

I felt like it was the time of the month where'd I go nuts biologically. I had a million thoughts racing through my head. _What would my parents do? What about Astrid? What would I do? I've lost half of myself!_

Abernathy spoke up, "_Sir_, the report on Lance Corporal Black's brother was reported in error! He's not dead…_sir_!"

"What?!" Finch roared.

As Finch said that, my jaw was so low to the ground ants were crawling in it. Then, more officers showed up. But this time, they were _not_ of our company. I immediately recognized the black, but small super-space aged suits they wore. They were Power Recon officers. The leader was the tallest of the group and he spoke with authority the likes of Finch had never seen before.

"What in God's name is going on here?!" the officer said.

"Who are you? I wasn't aware of any Recon personnel in BP." Finch replied.

The officer did not respond to Finch, rather he looked around at us. His head was beneath that glass visors those Recon guys always wore into battle. Then, I was staring right at him. He walked a few paces towards me.

"I am Major Henderson, Power Recon Division HQ, Special Affairs unit. First I would like to apologize for the Charlie Foxtrot. I am here to report the status of one E-4 Bravo-Bravo, Werewolf Company, and 1st Battalion was reported in error. He was wounded while on a mission in Lower Gublina with his company. Due to an error in the tactical computer system we use, the status of E-4 Bravo-Bravo was listed as KIA instead of WIA. He has been medivaced to this area and is expected to return with 48 hours."

My heart jumped a few thousand beats. He was alive after all. I'd heard the reports of the fierce fighting in Gublina, but my brother was still alive. These space aged suits were obviously made to withstand all kinds of punishment. It was clear from the news reports that Power Recon had taken a beating but only had a few wounded and even fewer killed in action. I shouldn't have been worried about Brandon. He was not going to be easy to put in a box. Even with his dumb, stuntman like behavior of the past when he tried to fly on the ceiling fan and broke his collarbone when he was seven or tried to skateboard when he was thirteen and busted his ass. Or the time when he tried an ATV for the first time and ended up on crutches for a month. Boys will be boys.

I was happy inside…but I was confused as hell.

"Unfortunately, my counterpart in Osea, one Major Wilkerson, the Northern Osean Region DNO (Death Notification Officer) for Power Recon was not informed of the error before he reached your parents house."

I stopped breathing. My parents weren't the heroes they were in the past. They were getting older. They were more fragile. They were at or pushing fifty, my mother was a cancer survivor and I knew with both Brandon and I in a war zone they were worrying themselves to _death_. They did not need this at _all_!

"Wha…sir, are you saying my parents think my brother's dead?!" I said, trying to maintain my breathing.

Henderson was still and perfectly composed. "It is Major Wilkerson's job to inform families of the deceased at least 24 hours before the official notice is sent out. It is meant as a courtesy. We've finally corrected the error and everything should be squared away. Again, I apologize for the confusion. But a technical difficulty caused the entire situation."

I became queasy. My eyes were rolling around in their sockets. I wasn't sure if it was because of the false alarm by incompetent officers or something I ate. Or was it because of Rico and my brother? I didn't know. Then my insides turned inside out once again.

"You alright?" Xanthia asked.

"I think I'm going to be sick." I said.

***

**Brandon**

**August 31, 2037**

My eyes showed me a blurred picture like a zoomed in focus of white pixels on a computer screen. At that moment, I knew I wasn't dead. All I could remember was the dreams and the last few minutes of the raid. We broke into the chemical factory, ran down the fence with our LARAs and shot our way inside the complex. It was easier than I thought. Eric the Red laid down all kinds of grenade fire from the VV-3 gun. He literally destroyed one of the buildings. I wanted to rush the office. I wanted to be on point and take the assault in. I wanted Mirov to pay for my niece's disfiguration. We lit the building up and moved into the factory region. I didn't once care about dying. I thought I was going to die, but I really didn't care at that point. We set up the perimeters and by then air and arty had knocked out any enemy reinforcements in the area. It was all I remembered other than the pain. The silence.

The pain was only for a moment. It felt more like needles in my skin rather than a sledge hammer to my crown. I heard voices.

Finally, I could see what appeared to be the roof's dirty white sheetrock. The noises became even louder. There were men and women talking in fancy languages: CCs, morphine, triage, etc. I knew exactly where I was. I looked to my right and saw an empty chair. On that table near the seat, there was something there. It was purplish and bright. Then I really saw them. It was a trio of purple roses, cut mid-stem. Each one laid next to the other in some perfect pattern. I listened to the voices again as I realized I couldn't move.

I heard a voice and I looked up. "Back from the dead, I see brother."

I was shocked. "Alphonso? Walt? Is that you?"

Sure enough, there they were in almost full Recon gear: Walter Snow and Alphonso Adair.

The foreigner smiled. "Yeah. We are here in Bethlehem Park, you're alive and all is well in the world. Everyone thought you'd bit the big one…for about five minutes."

I was confused. "Huh? What…how long was I out?"

"Three days. You were in a coma or something. It's all too confusing."

"What happened at the chemical plant? Did you guys get Mirov?"

"Sort of," Alphonso said. He sat down in the chair next to me, "A lot's happened in the last three days and I'll have to get you up to speed."

Alphonso went through the basics I could remember about the chemical factory assault. I remembered being furious the second I walked into one of the office buildings. Then I remembered the blast. I had hit a C-4 trap, according to Micho. The blast shattered my protective glass facial shield and threw me into a wall. I should have been permanently deafened, but the concussion was enough, strangely, to put me in a comatose state. I was cas-evaced.

"…then Eric got hit when a mine went off near him. We couldn't see it because it was hidden under rubble…"

"What happened to Mirov?" I asked.

Walt shook his head. "We were crawling through this place looking for Vicious. He had these loudspeakers taunting us. He had these crazy ass Dogmen guys inside firing back. We knocked them off and we get to the control room and do you know what we found? It was all a damn recording! He'd split hours before we got there! Then some of the Dogmen guys flee and we get orders from that bitch royalty up at Command, G1 or whatever, to pursue. Cameron crashes us into a tree while we're shooting! PFC Desormeaux gets tossed but he's okay."

Alphonso finally took control, "We lost Mirov. _Unfortunately_ for us, it seems a stray MP unit from 82nd Airborne waxed Mirov and took all the credit. They ran into Mirov's jeep while they got lost in the confusion of the same night they were battling the Dogmen outside St. Marie du Maurine. This female soldier took him out with one shot; got him right between the eyes."

Walt continued to complain, "All that crazy stuff we did was for nothing! Some creampuffs from the Airborne who shouldn't even have been there…took the credit for our work! Four days of getting our asses shot at for nothing! Now we're in reserve at BP."

Alphonso interrupted, "But according to Abernathy, when you and Eric were cas-evaced it was a real scene. They had Division personnel…and you're not going to believe this: they had techs from Hephaestus Corporation there. I talked to Tristan the other day, and he said the same thing happened to him. When he came too, the H-Corp people were asking him all kinds of questions about the suit. This has been going on since the start." Alphonso said, "However, due to a snafu with the TAC, your status was mistakenly shown KIA not WIA. They told your parents before they got the thing squared away."

I panicked, but the restraints made me a little hesitant to go crazy. "What?! They told them! Did they…"

Alphonso looked around. "They got everything straightened out. But this isn't going away. They told your sister the wrong stuff, then there was this fight between Senior NCOs and officers since apparently this happened with a few other people…"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Though I imagine my mom nearly had a heart attack and my dad was probably pacing around steamed about all this. "How did you find this out?"

"Your sis. She's here…in this camp right now!"

My eyes bulged and I was filled with all sorts of excitement. Tasha? Here? I could scarcely believe it. It was like waking up in a bed with Elizabeth D'Schubert.

"Sweet! What's she doing?!" I asked.

Then Alphonso started to hem and haw. "Well, she's been laid out for the last 24 hours because something in her MRE had food poisoning. She got violently ill after they told her about your…death. "

"Wow." I said. My sis had a weaker stomach than me and when she was growing up she had several intestinal problems. Though it was later determined it was just an unusual stress reaction. Then I looked and saw the change in stripes on Alphonso. "Hey…did you get promoted?"

The Sapinian smiled, "Yeah, I'm a Sergeant now. They should have promoted me months ago, but that's the way the Corps works. LT Millen got knocked out by an IED the other day, so Riba's got to take his place on the S-3 staff. Morrison made _me_ Team 2 leader."

_Now he was talking_, I thought.

"So…who's going to be your assistants? What's going on?"

Alphonso started playing around with the purple flowers. "Wash and Abernathy are moving to my team, and I'm taking you, Walt, Hoot, our Hollywood friend Cameron, Desormeaux, Rico and Micho. Corporal Craft's been temporarily banned from driving the LARAs, so Hoot's driving until further notice. Kell and Casey are staying on Team 1, Tristan's moving to Team One as well. Sergeant Adams will be Dickerson's new assistant. Bennett, when he comes back from injury, Mathers, Wilcox, and Chapman are staying on Two."

Walt then crossed his arms and looked at our new team leader. "Why _did_ you take Hoot anyway? I thought he drove you nuts."

Alphonso replied, "Like you do any better? Besides, if I made all my decisions based upon preference and disposition…we would not be as effective."

At this point, I was working on releasing the restraints on my body. I was halfway done when I had to ask, "Does my sis know about Lucy?"

"No…well not about the tongue part. I wasn't going to tell her anyway; she _was_ pretty sick. I'd assume your parents would know by now though. The Lt. Commander Bohr managed to pull some strings and got Lucy on a plane back to Alaska." Alphonso continued.

I was relieved that Lucy was finally safe. Now the search and the mystery stayed specifically on Sueltana and Jakob's whereabouts. My mother probably couldn't take the heartache but Alaska was where my niece needed to be. I knew she'd be happy to see my dad. She loved my dad and often spent a lot of time talking about Uncle David. It was so weird for my dad to go from all conquering fighter ace to…Uncle something.

I'd been out for three days, which in the military was an about a week in comparison. "What's going on in the war?"

Alphonso put the flowers down, "First Marines and the B-52 bombers beat the snot out of the Dogmen's 45th Armored yesterday. There's nothing but wasteland and the remnants of the 35th Armored between us and Severja. Unfortunately, we in Power Recon are not quite in the game on this. We're moving out tomorrow but we're going to be screening 3/5 as they advance up the line. 82nd Airborne and 3/5's on point to punch into Severja with us attached to First Marines. We get to clean up the mess."

I was full of life again. I finally finished fooling around with the restraints and gotten out of bed, detached my tubes and was looking for my gear, even though I was in a hospital suit and my gear was miles away. "Hell, I'm not missing that scene!" I said.

"Are you sure? You're probably going to be AWOL. They haven't quite cleared you yet."

"Don't care. I'm getting in the game." I said, looking around frantically.

"Shit, you and Eric are giving Power Recon a good rep. You guys busting out of the aid station to go fight the Dogs of Soma! Good on you." Walt said, "Don't worry I got you covered."

He handed me a gray wrapped package. I knew what it was. I tore open the pack and I saw he'd handed me the Charcoal uniform. The Charcoal uniform was the gray, white and black uniform we wore in training during our PT runs and SEAL workouts. We also wore part of the uniform underneath the Ultimate Warrior suit. It was often called "Recon Casual" and we did our first operations in the RC suit and even trained for operations where our suit was ineffective or seriously damaged. The topper was the infamous midnight watch cap, a black cloth toboggan hat we wore on our heads during training. This hat was a recon tradition that went back to the first Recon Marines in the 1970s. The watch caps were always worn in the rear and hated by every other regular Marine grunt. It affirmed our elite status.

It was strange for Walter Snow to be friendly. In the past, he was just a jerk. He hated everybody and everybody disliked him. Women were second class citizens to him. He _was_ a decent soldier, if not he a bit lazy at times. He'd been forced into the military because he went postal and beat up his fourteen year old sister after he'd turned eighteen. He belonged in jail, but something about the war changed him. He was still a jerk, but now he was much nicer to everyone. His hatreds and faults were more tongue in cheek. Then again, there were a lot of people in the Marines who should have been in jail. Half of my sister's platoon certainly filled that description. Maybe it was because he'd finally found a place to unleash his inner animal and kill without consequence. He could a criminal and no one would judge him. I thought maybe I should have stopped judging him as well.

"Well, we're not moving out for 24 hours, right? With that, I do have some unfinished business. I got to find Tasha." I said.

"Tasha's heading back to her company in thirty mikes. You better hurry." Alphonso said while leaving, "And don't forget…you-know-who is in this same camp. And by the way…she knows you're here. She sent the flowers."

My excitement reached a fever pitch. I started getting dressed in a hurry. I couldn't take anymore happiness or I'd burst. Dulcinea was here. I had a good few hours to be reacquainted with my girl. I never thought about the Rico-love letter situation. I had no solid proof of anything though. I was not going to force the issue. Why would I? My girlfriend was in this camp. I had a distinct advantage over every single Power Recon guy in that my girl was in-country. Everyone else's wives or girlfriends were a Ceres Ocean away. I went insane and forgot about everything: my parents, the war, Lucy, my team, the Yukes. There was only Dulcinea out there. That's all that mattered for a few hours.

As I finally put on the Charcoal suit, Walt kept talking. He tapped my shoulder with the back of his hand. "Hey, you didn't hear it from me…but the word around the campfire is that Desormeaux getting _real_ acquainted with Blondie from the LEO. And Micho's hanging around the Suze a little more than he should, if you know what I mean."

I didn't say anything. "Bro, aren't you listening to me?" Walt added.

I slowly slid on my watch cap and could care or less about Marco trying to get into Tatiana's pants or Micho's possible infidelity.

"Walt, just shut up."

Next Chapter: See You Soon


	9. See You Soon

Chapter 9: See You Soon

_**Tasha**_

**Bethlehem Park, Medical Station Number 3**

**August 31, 2037**

**1100 hrs**

It was amazing how quickly things changed. The previous day, I felt like crap. My body turned into the Soma and revolted against me. The Soma were a serious threat and for the first several days of this war our allies up north and west of us were fighting intense battles with these…Dogmen and the Soma's regular troops. First Marines and the 82nd Airborne were only 70 klicks south of Severja but were facing heavy resistance in the Gresla area. In the past, we could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. Now they were in far away battles where knowledge was mostly second hand.

We'd heard rumors of insurgency in the city of Kazar, where the resistance had stopped the 82nd Airborne cold. I'd seen some of their casualties while we traveled shortly up north. Meanwhile, I wasn't in the aid station because I was wounded. I was throwing up for two days straight. I had other problems besides insurgency in Kazar or the battles inside Lower Gublina. I was preoccupied with my gastrointestinal issues on account of some retard at the MRE Company poisoning my peanut butter.

I'd talked to my dad about Brandon being injured. The circumstances scared us to death. He and his friends were actually going after one of the leaders of the dreaded Dogmen. They'd caused our allies in the army a lot of trouble around the city of Kazar and Lower Gulbina in general. We had little information. However, the word that Brandon was in a coma was disconcerting. I relayed all the details I could. I heard that Brandon was in fact conscious though, and it was a good thing. Originally, our company was to step off in thirty minutes. However, in my absence the driving responsibilities were shifted to O'Neal, whose driving skills were...not adequate to say the least. Now I'd been cleared to go back and Charles was here to get me up to speed, as was many other people in the company who'd been recently laid out with this food illness. To make matters worse, word had it a virus caused all this death in Yuktobania; just one more problem in a list of problems. But I knew I'd see my twin brother soon.

"Hey." I said.

"Are you okay, Tasha?" asked Charles.

I retrieved my stuff from under the bed and slung my bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm much better. My stomach's not curdling anymore." I said. I remembered I wasn't the only one to come down with this sickness. "Where's Carly? How's she doing? And Damon? What about him?"

Lance Corporal Wheldon's whereabouts was unknown to me, but PFC Southerland's location was easy to find. There were eight rows of beds in the room. Just across from mine were two empty ones from the final bed…which contained a rather gaunt and upbeat young woman. But I noticed how everyone stayed away from her, even on my side. And yet, I was not surprised. The bed ridden patient was PFC Carile Nesha-Southerland, a North Point and Yuke racial hybrid product of Oured's upper middle class Soho region, a.k.a. South Oured. But we didn't call her Carile Southerland, we called her _Carly South_.

Carly South was another person in a growing clique of enlisted soldiers in the Corps who was absurdly talented but just didn't belong in the enlisted ranks. Chalk all that up to President Shelley's Re-Alignment plan. Carly got rejected from Annapolis at the last minute, which was interesting that she made it _that_ far since me and Brandon were rejected outright. And yet, if you talked the recent crop of officers like Dickerson or Finch, they all seemed to come from the same backgrounds. It was my firm belief that Madame President Shelley only wanted rich families' sons and daughters leading the enlisted people. And even then, they only wanted the best.

Judging from everything I knew about Alphonso Adair, I knew he was lying when said he liked being an NCO. Rico had a few tales about many men in Brandon's company treated the Sapinian man as one big joke. Then again, it may have had more to do with him being a religious man among a godless, hedonistic group of people which made up most of Werewolf Company and 95 percent of the Corps.

"Well…" Charles said. I looked over his shoulder and I saw a short red-headed woman lying in the bed on the end. I stepped out from in front of Charles.

"God, Carly…you look like shit." I said.

"I feel like it too. This is killing me." she replied, her voice rather weak.

Then, like I did yesterday, Carly clenched up and vomited into large plastic bowl.

"You're such a creampuff." Mercier said.

Carly was not well liked. I'm not sure if it was her short strange red-gold hair. But that wasn't a valid reason. Her hair _was_ in regulation, but its unusual coloring was just due to genetics. It often happened among mixed races. Or maybe it was because she was the new girl. The boot marines were never liked as much. She was a likeable person and didn't complain about every little thing. The damning thing about her was this unfair label she picked up from day one: a bad luck charm. I imagined that if the world ended after I walked to her, everyone would blame Carly South for it.

"She'll back up in a day or two. Good thing our deployment was changed to tomorrow." Jason said.

"Really?" I said.

"Sweet! You're brother's awesome." Carly South said, her voice soft. By now, I was close to her and just as she started retching again, I made a quick move for the plastic basin and held it under her chin. She stated coughing, but the other's reactions were not what I expected, even while she was ill.

"The last thing her bro needs is _you_…the official bad luck charm." said PFC Rebecca Loyola, who was sitting around Jason. I wasn't sure if Jason and Rebecca were seeing each other but as much as they hung out…they might as well have been dating.

"Freaking New Girl. Jesus." Jason added.

Like that, most of them began walking out and as far away from Carly South as they could. But typical Southerland, she just stood there and took it. The fact Rebecca got in her shots was bush league. The fact Becca considered Carly South lower on the totem pole than her was just hypocritical.

We left the aid station and walked outside into the sunlight. We were in the south end of the large BP area.

I was used to the constant insulting, cursing, and highly charged environment I lived in. We girls had to roll with the punches and dish out a few ourselves. It was not like in Recon where they constantly fought each other in martial combat for pride and dominance over another. In Motor T, we had only our words. We sung good songs horribly and we made fun of each other with nasty insults. For the most part, we girls didn't care. We all had a little tomboy in us. We could take it. But the jokes and insults were mostly for fun. This was sheer animosity in most cases. I was aquainted with Carly South and it really offended me. Though, the entire thing seemed more like a gang mentality than simply razing the newbie.

"What was all that about? That was _really_ rude." I said, turning to the almost bleach blonde Rebecca. We stopped outside one of the loading docks near the empty factory running parallel to our bivouac area.

Charles cut me off. "We're moving up with the other line companies. We're taking stuff to First Marines while they mess up the area around Kazar and Severja."

"Recon's not going into the city first?" Xanthia asked.

"I know they gotta be mad they're not going in first." Charles added.

"Not all of us." said a rather sensual voice. And that was voice was too recognizable. We all turned and saw who everyone in Werewolf Company called, "The Preacher". He was in some strange grayish, black camouflage. It looked like something the Belkans would wear, but in the past I saw my brother and his friends in those clothes doing physical training in the mornings.

"Well, if it isn't the Historian of the fabled Werewolf Company; a man almost as annoying as PFC Southerland." Charles said.

"That's sergeant now." Alphonso said with a smile, "But, I don't know about _fabled_."

"What's Recon doing in our area?" Charles asked.

"I was going to tell your friend Tasha here that her brother is out and about; once more among the living."

It was in one of these distant battles where my brother was wounded. The doctors said he'd been in a coma for a day and a half. However, now he was up and about.

_How could someone that had just been in a coma swiftly be on their feet and ready to go fight?_

"God, you were just put on this earth to spout useless wisdom weren't you? This guy used to drive me crazy in Recon School." said our storytelling friend.

Alphonso turned away from Charles. "I'm surprised you're still angry about it…as short a time it was."

"Ooh, burn!" I said, tapping Charles' shoulder.

"You want to find Brandon, Tasha? Follow me." Sergeant Adair said.

The Fifth Regiment rear area was right next to the Recon bivouac area. The Sergeant led me there while he engaged me with talk about the war, Brandon and Alphonso's fiancé Kate whom everyone made relentlessly made fun of (it seemed a _little_ familiar). Then he threw in something about religion that I didn't care for. Finally, he halted me around the empty truck trailers near the Recon area. He told me to wait until Brandon, in the same charcoal gear all of Power Recon wore, was well distracted. The Sapin man moved in front of the trailer and began to speak to my brother. I crept around the other way. The ground was smooth and dirty, the asphalt black and gray.

"_Have you heard anything more about this virus? No one in command's telling us anything."_

"_As far as we know it's called Seelow Rot. It gets into plants, it gets into the mitochondrion of the cells, disrupts the photons moving energy to the cells, screws with photosynthesis…"_

"_It keeps sunlight from feeding plants. Farmers can't grow anything…people starve. Why did it take them so long to figure this out?"_

"_I talked to the LT. Those two doctors we rescued from the town a couple days ago said the Yuktobanian Center of Pathological Research was the first to be bombed when the Soma started their insurrection."_

"_Is it fatal to humans?"_

"_It is only in very large doses. That's what the doctor told us. Symptoms include vomiting, diarrhea, headaches, and dizziness and so on. But your sister didn't catch it as far as I know."_

"_Thank god. Now, what is this I hear about uprisings in Kazar?"_

"_Insurgency. It's the only town in Gublina that's loyal to the Soma. Scuttlebutt says command's talking about bypassing it."_

Then I made my move. I ran up behind him and covered his eyes, "Peek-a-boo, bitch!"

He forced my hands off his face and Brandon turned in total shock, "Oh, my god!"

I closed my eyes when I hugged him. I dreamed I was seven years old. I dreamed we were playing escape in our vast back yard in the dead winter of January, as if we were mom and dad downed from our planes in Lower Gublina. We wandered the vast and icy brush trying to escape from imaginary enemy. I wanted to go when we were nine and we'd have these ridiculous out loud reading contests while mom was in the kitchen. But she never got mad; she thought it was funny as hell. Now at first, dad thought we'd gone retard on him, but it grew on him.

I wanted to do something stupid with Brandon again. Like the time we threw rocks at a hornets ' nest, or went downhill in a wheeled trash bucket, or when Brandon tried to go down the stairs in the laundry hamper or when I actually tried "car surfing"…

I wanted to relive those awkward moments at St. Mary Anna's where we tried to avoid each other. Brandon was always trying to act cool in front of Walt and Micho. However, the reality was he was one pair of glasses and a bad taste in fashion away from geekdom…like I was.

It was like living a dream all over again. But after months of learning the trade of the insult, I wasn't going to let my twin off easy.

"You should be ashamed of yourself letting a Motor T cowgirl sneaking up on Ricky Recon." I said. Brandon was speechless for the first time in his life...well, maybe the second. I pushed him and said, "How are you _alive_ right now?!"

Brandon pushed me back and produced a small orange vial. "The Regen Matrix saved my ass."

I knew what it was…to some degree. The RM, as some called it, was this amazing thingamajig where the UWS suit would inject an orange solution into a person's body. Whatever it was, it was designed to bring someone (depending on their physical state) into a stable unconsciousness or into a semi-coma state by regulating the heart beats so the person could stay alive. It was almost fatal to give someone such a pain reliever with uncontrolled bleeding wounds. But apparently, some genius in the H Corp figured out how to safely give morphine to a bleeding patient. They body healed with something called nanomachines that sped up internal repair.

That begged the question: should someone just in a coma have been ready to fight that soon? Then, there was another: how did a C4 trap put Brandon into such a state in the first place? Brandon's wounds were serious, but nothing coma-worthy. From the Sapin Sergeant's words, it would appear that Brandon was unfazed by it. I did understand my brother wanting to get back into the game. But this soon? _What the heck __**was**__ in that Regen Matrix?_

"Oh, that stuff." I could only produce from my mouth.

"Why didn't you send me flowers?" he said. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"What, mine weren't good enough?"I heard someone say.

We both turned, and there she was. The Blonde Dahlia herself: Dulcinea Dasana. My brother didn't waste any time running up to her and nearly suffocating her to death.

Brandon was a guy who was generally concerned about people, but the second this Dulcinea showed up…he became insane and lose focus with anything. The world could have ended, but this girl could show up and things would be fine. _Oh, it's __**just**__ the Apocalypse_, I imagined he'd think. But I always wanted to see the smile on his face and the pride in his heart all over this chick. Now, I didn't envy her…a lot. I did wish I had her peach skin, the blonde hair, that perfect set of blue eyes, the perfectly trimmed nails, that just ideal nose shape and those teeth…just pearly white and unblemished. And outside those were those puffy lips she had with the strawberry gloss and beneath them the perfect set of bubble breasts. I had no shame in admitting she was pretty goddamn attractive. I imagine that's how my dad felt when my mom showed up in his squadron at Sand Island…and if he hadn't felt that way…we wouldn't exist at all. Go figure.

Of course in BP, Dulcinea was…well, not as attractive as she usually was. Her long cherry tipped curls were gone; her hair had gone from long blond to cropped bleach. Her skin was dirty and there were cuts all over her arms.

Yuktobania had not been kind to anyone. Until now.

I looked to the left and then I realized _I, Tasha Black Lovecraft, _had someone to see. I had plenty of time for Brandon, but my man was waiting for me. I saw Rico prowling around the area, and I knew what I had to do.

"Hey, Ran. Change of plans, we're going to be here for another 24 hours. With that, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." I said, tapping him with a light touch of my hand. I slipped away while they were still in the embrace. It was almost as if they didn't hear me. For the first time in my life, I was happy to be ignored.

***

**Brandon**

**1120 hrs**

The White Rose Aid workers had been pretty much evicted by every single service in the Osean military. The regular Army, which had arrived just the other day, had set up in the hospital where Dulcinea spent most of her time. Now she'd been downgraded to a large tent she stole just to have a roof over her head. She had to steal the sleeping bag as well.

Dulcinea's clothes were not the pleated white dresses and the bluish skirts she often wore. The ones I loved to watch in the bright sunlight. They were replaced by a white collar shirt and blue jeans. Her shoes weren't the hemp and yarn numbers she liked to buy from those stupid hippie stores in Sand Island. They were just regular tennis shoes I'd wear.

The first thing I noticed when she got her arms around me…her fingernails were down to nothing. She didn't feel smooth and soft; her skin was cracked and hard. Her eyes were red with exhaustion, each vein like a small river in her pupils. She had no makeup on. Her skin had turned a nasty light brown. Her clothes were filthy and had blood stains on them. The jeans she had on, they were ripped in a few tiny places and the shoes she had on were worn out. The straps and laces were falling apart. The back heel on her right shoe had come apart.

In the wastes of Baston and Lower Gublina, I saw what Seelow Rot did to Yuktobania. I'd seen what Yuktobania had done to Dulcinea. And Dulcinea's appearance was breaking my heart, not in the aesthetic sense, but in the overall big picture. My girlfriend was a living portrait of this shattered land. This was this Seelow Rot had done to her. Every night having to deal with starving people, lack of supplies and the general misery of her parent's homeland. Her parents hated their motherland though. It wasn't just this bio-chemical nightmare and the famine. It was what it had produced. There were a few wrinkles in her face. They were very hard to see at first, but I concentrated my eyes on them. All of this was stress related. I could tell because even though she'd cut her hair, I saw a few strands of it fall off as we came into the tent.

It was something I noticed in all the Yukes around here. Back in the Baston Forest, I saw it in Seto's face, but I didn't recognize it initially. I saw the bags under his eyes and the loss of hair. Even Suzie's hyper form showed the depredation of time and stress. Tatiana was older than she was. She could have passed for a twenty one or twenty two year old woman. She was just seventeen by eighteen days. No wonder Desormeaux got her age wrong.

I stood there, looking into the worn eyes of the woman I loved, I couldn't be angry. I tried to force myself to be furious. I had every reason to be. The virus had taken this beautiful woman and turned into a shell of what she was because of everything else this plague had done. If the virus hadn't happened, Sueltana would not have been lost in the hell of this country. Who knew if she was alive or dead? _Lucy would be home in the D'Enfante Palisades…_

My niece _was_ on a plane to Alaska and my parents had no idea about the reality of her condition as far as I knew, much less my own sister Tasha. I was in a hospital, comatose, instead of back in the game. We'd lost fellow Marines because this virus worsened a war we didn't start but our Madame President determined we had to finish. It was why I saw all the bodies along the side of the U80 Highway, and saw 82nd Airborne soldiers lifting out the bodies of their friends from destroyed vehicles. That woman's face…

I pushed it out in one violent mental action. I couldn't be sad…not when I finally had my girl back in my arms. I couldn't think about how long it had been, but I decided to enjoy the moment anyway, because I'd probably not have it for a long while. Assuming, of course, I survived at all.

"I've missed you." she said.

"You already said that." I replied. I held her closer, and i didn't care that she was not in a hundred percent perfect hygiene. Technically, no one outside the people in the aid stations was 100 percent clean. "I'm just glad you're putting a brave face on things. Ever since I got here it's been one problem after another."

She backed away from me, "You've had problems? I don't want to be condescending, but you have no idea what've I been through. Every night I have to hear the screams and the wailing, a bomb going off and someone telling me the next morning someone else has died. Then there are days I have to watch people die and tell their kids their parents are gone. And even worse, watching the children die. The media tells the world we're being heroes. There's nothing heroic about this. I just didn't want to bum you out. I didn't think I'd get to meet you here."

I was speechless. On one hand, what she said didn't make a lot of sense. I was out there close to death! _Did she not __**realize**__ I was getting shot at,_ I thought. I was furious. Then, on another...she did go through a lot of horrors herself. That was inarguable judging from the conditions in the camp. But my fury won out. She truly had no idea what I'd seen. This was inexcusable. I was a soldier. I came here to fight the enemy in the dirt and mud. In the process, I'd seen things no one should've seen. To add insult to injury, I wanted this time to be with her and I was damn lucky I'd been wounded in the first place so I could be here! All those sleepless nights...all that death...

"Do you have any idea what _I've_ seen? I saw a child with her tongue ripped out? You know who it was? It was Lucy! It was Sueltana's daughter! We found her in a village where one of the Dogmen was believed to be hiding!" I said to her.

I could tell I'd struck a nerve. For a moment, I thought I may have made a mistake exploding the way I did. But she started to tremble a little, and finally she said, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't…I had no idea…I'm such an idiot. I mean, you're the one being a hero and I'm…"

Then she started crying. I just let her cry there on my shoulder for along moment as I relaized we'd both been through so much in such a short time. "Don't be. I'm just glad we're both in one piece." I said.

"I thought you'd died out there. When I heard you were hurt…"

Now _that_ was a blow to my pride. _Hurt_ sounded weak. I was nearly done in by a C4 trap. That did not qualify one to be hurt.

"It's wounded, honey. Hurt sounds childish to us Recon people." I said. She then stopped sobbing, then forced a laugh.

"You cocky piece of..." She said. She forced out a laugh, shook her head and stared right at me. She laid her head on my shoulder again, not caring if the dust from her hair got on my crisp new charcoal uniform.

"I love you." I said.

"I know." She replied.

I just held her there for a long time. I think time stopped for a moment as we just stood there together. I could feel the slow thumping of her heart. I had no thoughts as she rested there. I allowed her to just be there with me, and we did this without words or sounds. That is until she finally spoke.

"Brandon…I have a problem. I need your help." She said, finally drying her eyes.

"I'm listening." I said.

***

_**Tasha**_

**1130 hrs**

There was a time when I knew my brother was living the dream. Of course, he was living the dream long before I was. As I walked from the happy couple, I was alone for the moment; I was alone with every intention of living that dream. For me, nothing had come easy. I had trouble trying to form regular relationships. Either I'd get too clingy or too neurotic or sometimes I'd just frost up all together. I only got out of my dysfunction when I met my Rico at that Laundromat in Akerson Hill. My mom told me I was looking through rose tinted glasses with my man. I didn't care. I wanted my bit of happiness.

I saw Rico from about a hundred and fifty yards away. I started to run.

I was never the girl who got all the boys. I was the girl who liked to play with cars and rock out to heavy metal and grungy rock. I had the looks, but it never translated to anything. I always had my headphones blaring in my ears, much to my parent's chagrin. I listened to all the popular rock bands: _Twisted Dream_, _Lenovo Handicap_, _The Ellen Coates Band_, _Chemical Toilet_, and _Repelled Coup_. I wanted to be the intense rocker chick everybody loved. But, my other interests held me back. No guy wanted some chick who watched foreign cartoons with boys that looked like girls and girls that were…anatomically exaggerated. I liked their music, I knew what a driveshaft was, and I could burnout and rev my engine with the best of them. But I was too much of a geek to be a player.

Rico saw past all that.

So I stopped within ninety yards, casually walked past the guards there, and entered into an almost predatory mode. I stopped and looked to make sure it was him…and sure it was.

"There you are, you sly devil."

His hair had turned darker than it was before. I couldn't see if war had the same effect on him yet. I walked over to him, swaying…my light steps unbecoming of a female Marine who could put a round through anything from 100 to 300 meters away. I wasn't a trained killer this time. My old M-4 was in the case and I was just Tasha Black. Maybe if I had my hair back, I'd be the beautiful Tasha Black. But I had to show up as myself. And there was nothing wrong with that.

I wanted to feel lighter than air again. I wanted to be in his arms again and taste him, inhale his scent and finally breathe. I imagined it was decades ago when my mom made this same walk across the burning tarmac of Sand Island to once again breathe by just being in the arms of the person she loved. I never thought about the possibility of Rico dying. He was a pretty damn good soldier and like my brother, he'd be a tough out for the Soma.

I grabbed him, and all the other guys started to whoop and make cat calls but I didn't care. Like the other Recon guys, he had that arrogant looking silver and black camo on. But I didn't care. This was what I wanted. I just kissed him lightly, my entire soul filled with light. I was overjoyed. Rico smiled, but if he was just as happy to see me, he didn't show it to the extent I did. I was beaming.

"How you been, you big lug?" I said, nudging him.

"Getting my ass shot at, but I'll be okay. I've been so worried about you. It's been gnawing at me every night." He said, but his head kept moving back and forth.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked, annoyed.

He laughed, "I was looking for Tristan before you came. I was supposed to give him something I borrowed."

"What'd you steal from that Esto-fakin bastard?" I asked unable to contain my laughter.

"A laser designator. I lost mine in the…flight here. We got shot down over Baston and we barely made it out." He said, almost nervous.

I just stood there with him. Something in my mind though was telling me something different. The moment should have been too good to be true. I didn't want to make a huge show out of it, to do so would have drawn rebuke from any officers or senior NCOs around. Ironically though, the Recon guys didn't seem to care as much. After all, they were _young_. Sheckenhousen, who had_ just_ turned 27, was the senior NCO of my brother's company. My ears told me everything I needed to know when my brother and his baby doll showed up at my side, along with the misogynist Walter Snow, the Neo Fascist country boy Sergeant "Hoot" Teller, and the Hollywood Kid Cameron Craft. Rico perked up a bit, and I just shook my head. I wasn't mad as much as I was disappointed and humored. I wasn't angry. I just couldn't bring my emotion to that point. Was I this glad to see Rico that I too, like Brandon, lost all judgment?

"Hey, Rocketman! We got a situation." Brandon said, "Well, _she's_ got a situation."

"What is it?" Rico asked.

Then it hit me. It was right there in my face. Rico and Dulcinea. Charles never got to finish his story. My breathing became heavy. I noticed the way Dulcinea looked right at Rico...then she looked away as if she was disgusted to see him. But Rico cracked a smile, irrelevant of my presence. What _really_ happened between them? Now, for the first time...I wanted to get away from Rico as fast as I could. I _had_ to give the rest of the story.

Dulcinea spoke, "When Brandon was out…you know those guys from the Army right? They showed up like three days ago. Rear echelon guys moved into our billet and kicked us out! Then, those same Army guys stole some things from our tents. We caught some of them, but most of them fled. One of them took my rosary beads! They're the ones that Brandon got me for my birthday! We can't do anything about those guys."

Rico said scornfully, "Third ID. It's always something with the army."

"I hate those punks in Third ID. They're a bunch of inbred rednecks from Arkansas District who worship the second amendment like religion doctrine. No offense, Sergeant." Walt said.

"Don't worry about me. Those good 'ol boys make my dad look educated. I'm Whiskey Tango Royalty." said Teller.

"Who do they think they are? Coming in stealing things from _my_ girl? Oh, hell no." Brandon delcared angrily.

"Yeah, screw that!" Cameron added.

Walt nudged Brandon, "Hey, you didn't hear this from me…but Abernathy said that the Third ID guys are basically gone from this time until about 1800. Sheck was thinking about pulling the St. Hewlett Ratscrew on their billet. Dulcinea's got floor plans for the entire place. We're on liberty…you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

Then, Brandon smiled right at Rico. "You up for it, Rocketman?"

My man did not hesitate. "Hell yeah! Let's do it. Hoot?"

"Gentleman, go show those punks in Third ID who they're messing with." Sergeant Teller said. "Just don't get caught."

They started whooping and hollering. Then we initiated what I learned was the _Power Circle_. The "leader" would stand inside a circle created by the others who would lock arms and start to sway back and forth. The leader would then start yelling out cadences the others would repeat. It was customary in college and professional sports. Brandon stood in the middle and everyone else made the circle.

"Boys will be boys." I said. I slipped away. Then I ran. If I did that any faster, I'd have torn my hamstrings.

I ran directly to Charles Ellerbe. It was bizarre. I had to rely on the one person who'd made an art form out of his ability to lie and tell the truth without missing a beat in every story he told. It was unbelievable. After catching my breath, I stood up and faced him.

"Rico and Dulcinea dated. I want the rest of the story." I said firmly.

Most of my friends were sitting near a table outside. Xanthia had been talking to Doug about the difference between UHF and VHF frequencies. Charles and Jason were talking about running low on lubrication for the fifty cal and future combat conditions. When Charles saw me, he stood up and shook his head when I asked the question on the walk.

Charles sighed and sat back down. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah, your brother's girl and Rico dated for awhile. It was all good at first. For the first time, he wasn't sleeping around. He was obsessed with Dulcinea that I thought it was a bit creepy, but he never seemed to act like it around _her_…just around us. But something deep inside me actually believed she was the perfect girl for one Rico Lazarus. Over time, I became _absolutely_ sure. And it happened through a...paradoxical experience."

"How so?" I asked, my heart still beating rapidly.

"At one point after a few weeks, something twisted in Rico. Thinking back on it, I think his love for Dulcinea was a star that shined too bright and burned out early. Call me a cynic for this…but the weird thing guys about being one girl after another is that eventually…you don't trust _them_."

That moronic behavior explained how guys cheating on their wives become suspicious of _their_ intentions.

Charles continued, "Jason and I…as well as some other friends did everything we could to try to seduce her. We tried to tempt her. We'd let Rico know of course and he followed with the appropriate action, or lack thereof. "

I recoiled in horror. _Was this how ordinary married couples acted?_ I knew my father _never_ showed just blatant distrust in my mother.

I replied, "I can't believe you'd do something like that! You're probably the kind of guy who has people watching your wife to make sure she's not cheating on you. Corporal Ellerbe…you're a creep."

"It's the smart thing to do. You can't trust anybody these days. Yeah, I got people in the right spots watching the people I care about. I'd be a fool not to, not with four thousand miles of ocean. Love is real, but marriage isn't sacred anymore. I mean…"

I snapped, "Why do I even bother listening to you? You tell one story one day, and then change your opinion the next! I don't know why Sherry puts up with your crap!"

Charles cut me off again, "Lance Corporal, here's a life lesson: if you want to succeed in life, you have to be cynical. Isn't that kinda how your mom is?"

"How is this relevant to Rico?"

Charles held up his hands. "Well, you may find this shocking. Dulcinea was no prude, but was not going to budge for our whims. She was not going to screw Rico over for another guy. I was shocked at her iron will. We got her drunk, we got her high on paint fumes…and she still wouldn't give it up. It was unbelievable."

I froze for a moment, "Wow."

Charles continued, "Just as she was not willing to be an easy girl, Rico just couldn't get over that distrust. It's okay to be distrustful, but don't let it take over your life. Rico made that mistake. But it was understandable. We were kids, barely eighteen if that. Imagine Dulcinea's surprise when she found a certain lacy garment in his car that was not of _her_ ownership…"

"I'd have killed his ass." Xanthia interrupted.

Jason added, "She almost did. That was a scene when she found out. Then days later, she tried to kill herself. But she ended up puking up all those sleeping pills she had."

Charles continued, "Here's another twist. The girl he was cheating on her with got knocked up by him."

"What?!" I said.

"But when she found out Rico was with Dulcinea, she went crazy. She tried to kill herself and the baby. But she didn't quite secure the rope around her neck and ended up breaking her ankle. She miscarried anyway, so that's no big deal." Charles added.

I was shocked at how nonchalant his last sentence was. I know for a fact my mother had problems having kids in the six year period before we were born. Almost two years before Catherine was born, my mother carried Michael, our would-be oldest brother. She wanted to name him after my dad's old man, the one who died in the Belkan War when dad was a child. But he died in the womb.

"What is it with you high middle class white people trying to kill yourselves?" Xanthia said, cracking a smile.

Charles retorted, "Zanne, while you're railing on the white man, don't forget that your high school had people getting shot and stabbed every couple of weeks. Not to mention that little drug cartel your boyfriend was running out of seventh period."

"Can we get back to Rico, please? What happened after that?" I said. I was shaking. I couldn't believe any of this.

"This is where it gets a little weird…and interesting." Jason said.

I didn't know what to think at first. We all did dumb things in our past. Was this so unforgivable? They were in high school. But people changed. Rico did not have the disposition he had back then. That much I knew.

Xanthia cut him off, "Let me guess. Rico was one of those guys who dated only girls who looked like Dulcinea, right? And our dear, bald, pale-assed Tasha Black broke the cycle. With that action, love once again filled his heart."

Charles started laughing, "That's why you're the brains of the company, Zanne. Even though all the evidence points against it; even though you got knocked up at seventeen, got busted for stealing UMDs and pulled a knife on a chick you thought got fresh with you."

"Hey, I didn't pull anything on her! I just told her, not that's there's anything wrong with that, just don't bring it near me." Xanthia said, holding up her arms.

"Then I guess Carly should stop hanging around you." Charles said, and then he turned to Jason. He started laughing. "How the hell did she get into the Corps? I can't trust anybody from Soho."

Jason added, "Yeah, Amazon bitches are starting to infiltrate the 1st Marine Division. Carly's their advance scout. She's cherry picking talent for her friends back in that South Oured. They're doing the scouting reports while their sipping lattes and looking at crappy abstract art."

"Would you shut up with the Carly-is-dyke act? That shit is _too_ old. You can't prove anything." I said, angry.

"You _know_ it's true." Jason said, laughing in my direction, "You better keep an eye on her; she might just steal you away from Rico." I threw one of Xanthia's radio encryption code books at him.

Charles interrupted, "I hate her. She's been nothing but a hex. And I _know_ she's a fruit because her mom's one. A buddy of mine in Recon told me. And you know who _her_ girlfriend is? That Lillian Izzo fruitcake reporter from the _Oured Post Gazette_! And it gets worse! That tree-loving Communist professional liar is embedding with our company to do a column!"

I was kinda excited. I remember meeting Lillian Izzo a few times when Brandon and I were growing up. She was a very passionate, affectionate person; sometimes a little _too_ much. However, we didn't care if she liked other women. She was the coolest person we ever knew. She was hated by the conservatives in Oured, even though she, a fighter ace, helped save Versua from destruction before we were born. Izzo was real good friends with my mom, even with the stories about her bizarre behavior in the past.

"Lillian Izzo? Charles, show some respect! She's for a war hero for crying out loud."

"The last thing we need is some hack reporter tagging along and giving the Soma incentive to ambush us." Charles added.

"And all that is PFC Southerland's fault. Tasha's brother and Eric Martin nearly misted the walls on a C4 trap, Robert's Forty Mike-Mike went off in the armory and nearly killed a guy, and my momma shattered her hip the other day…and you think poor Carile caused all this because she's _bad luck_?" Xanthia asked; her twisted facial expression showed me her confusion.

Jason paused, then replied, "Hell yeah!"

Xanthia and I, almost in unison, dropped our heads into our palms. Charlie cut in, getting closer to Zanne. "Not to mention that Xanthia can't decide whether or not she hates the white man."

Xanthia pushed off Charles, "Hey, I don't hate the white man. If I did, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't give you half rich Whiskey Tangos a nanosecond of my sweet time if I hated you. Because when push comes to shove, I'll strap on my SAW and go into a minefield to pull either of you snobby, upper middle class, prep school, sex-crazed, make believe storytelling, Power Recon rejects."

"Ouch, I'm heartbroken." Charles said.

"Well, she does it because she loves you." I said with a smile.

"But seriously though, you've got to keep on eye on Rico. I mean, he dated girls that only looked like Dulcinea. How creepy is _that_? Now his story about how he met you doesn't differ much from your version, but you have to be a real careful about what Rico says." Charles said.

"Is he still in love with her, _now_?!" I demanded to know. I didn't care about the past.

"He's not cheating on you." Charles said after a very long pause. "Dulcinea hates him."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "There! Thank you. Now you have to admit he really did mature…unlike you."

Charles interrupted yet again, "Hold on, Calamity Jane. Put the brakes on that locomotive. I _never_ said Rico matured. Now that I think about Dulcinea she could have anybody else other than your two faced brother."

I wouldn't have any of that. I didn't believe anything he said. All he told me was Rico was still faithful. That's all I needed to know. "Ergo, she's just smarter than you are. Shazam!"

"Whoa, whoa…what, are you borrowing my lines now?" Xanthia asked, but afterwards the smile on her face was the size of the Ceres. "The professor's got a little gangsta in her."

"Wouldn't you know it, sis?" I said, smiling. We bumped knuckles and Jason just shook his head.

"Man, Tasha's got street cred now. Better watch out or she'll be doing drive-bys." He said.

That was all I needed to hear.

***

**Brandon**

**1250 hrs**

The four story hospital building was on the south end of the camp. What amazed me about it was how easy it was to get in. Usually, a billet was surrounded was MP personnel. There was a canal that ran alongside the 1st Marines and Power Recon areas. And in that canal, there was an underground section near the spillway behind the hospital. The peach colored spillway had been dried out for months. Inside were all kinds of skeletons, wrecked and rusted out cars along with the remnants of the dead plants and algae.

The others effortlessly climbed up the straight, pale wall and me…not so much with Dulcinea on my back. The hospital was about the size of two city blocks. Wash and Abernathy told us the Third ID guys on watch didn't even bother to watch the canal. Just to be sure, as we backed up against the wall, Rico peeked around the corner. About eighty yards from us, there were a few guards just milling around. Rico came back to us.

"Here's the wall." Walt said, looking at the map.

Dulcinea started moving around very quickly. Her eyes were all over the place. Her voice was clipped. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Trust me, baby." I said. "Just wait for me back at your tent."

"Okay Miss Dasana, let's show you how we do things in Power Recon." Cameron said.

"Let's do it." Rico said, almost a little too loudly.

The wall was a series of bricks, but the bricks made a pattern where we could simply climb up without any rope. We ran for the wall and just stuck our feet into the grooves created by the missing bricks. Up we went. We climbed up the bricks all the way to the roof using everything we learned in Mountain Warfare School. We guided ourselves with our arms and used our legs for the power. We made it to the roof and jumped across a small five foot gap to a building on the east side. Using rope, we crawled down the vent shaft and right into a locker room. Adrian Abernathy, the other half of Werewolf's sniper team and the obligatory white guy who thought he was black, had scored big time. It was a ghost town inside. We were joking all the way about how incompetent Third ID was. My girlfriend's old billet was literally around the corner from where we ended up. The floors were mostly clean; we had to give the army guys that. We opened one of the doors and found what we were looking for.

We tore through the bags and found most of the junk they'd stolen. They stored it all in one place; stupidly, it was the same place where Dulcinea and her friends stayed once upon a time. We found all kinds of candies, music discs, a few jewels.

"Oh, hells yeah!" Cameron said, putting on his best Abernathy impression. He tore through one room looking for anything valuable.

"Jackpot!" I said, producing the expensive ivory beads out of one of the bags on the floor filled with White Rose loot. Walt and I slapped hands. Despite his faults, it was still strange to be on more friendly terms with him. Combat may have done that. "Mission accomplished."

"Hey, check this out." Cameron said, picking up a painting from the wall in another room. "Nice, huh?"

"Let's get out of here." I said. It was child's play almost. I was in disbelief at how easy it was.

We snuck out the way we came. It took much longer since we had to climb back up the shaft. We took our spoils back to our section and walked along the canal bragging about how we'd shown up the regular Army. Once we were back in the bivouac area, I ran like a madman to Dulcinea's tent. There was no forethought, no concern about my situation. All I knew was that my lady was waiting for me. Everything else was pushed aside.

"Hey, look what I got!" I said, unzipping the tent. Inside was few things, among them the sleeping bag my girl had been reduced to and the many pictures of us and her friends in the photo album she kept near her at all times. She ran up and jumped into my arms, taking the rosary beads from me.

She was total elation. She didn't care I'd probably get in trouble for breaking into another unit's billet. And frankly, I didn't care. All that mattered was the fulfillment of her joy…which would later lead to my joy. She started kissing me, but her lips no longer had the gloss. They were a little rough, but I kissed her back because I just I didn't give a crap about that. I'd done my part.

"You are a sweetheart." She said, her face beaming.

"Now what?" I asked. I held her closer to me, but I had no idea what to expect out of her mouth. But I knew the second she worked the zipper on her jeans.

"I haven't seen you in months. Do you really have to ask?" she said. All I saw was a smile from ear to ear.

**Nineteen Minutes, Seventeen Seconds later…**

I had to literally pry myself away from my girlfriend. It was strange looking at her breathing as heavily as she was, her face locked in a bizarre death struggle with worry _and_ happiness. I'd seen it before only once. It was when she left for Yuktobania all those weeks ago. As I looked at her, I knew this was more the result of _my_ actions, not hers. Her left arm was locked under my right and her right arm was around the back of my neck in some kung fu grip. I had to shift my head for her to let me go. I wanted to be near her again. I didn't want to abandon her, for her sake and my own. But I had to. As we lay there, it all came back to me. The entire scene in St. Marie du Maurine and the sight of Lucy Devia's mouth without a tongue was enough to bear. Looking into the eyes of that female paratrooper and seeing my girlfriend's eyes, seeing all those bodies along the road and the darkness of three nights…it was too much. It all came back into mind in a waterfall rush. I had to let go, I couldn't drag Dulcinea into this horror with me. Being there with her was a reprieve from the horror, but I had to separate myself from her.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

I needed only a moment. I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I just put my clothes back on in a hurry.

"Yeah. It's just a lot of different stuff. It's got nothing to do with you. What about you?"

Dulcinea was still sitting upright. She wrapped herself in the blanket and said, "I'm at the point where _wonderful_ would be an understatement."

I heard a noise outside, but I wasn't too concerned about it…until it was too late. Until I heard the tent flap unzip and in poked the head of Lieutenant Dickerson. "Oh, there you are."

I saluted him, even though the area was still a mostly no-salute zone. I figured he must have found out about our little raid on the Third ID billet and I was screwed. "LT. Umm…well…"

Dickerson laughed, to my shock. "Don't worry about it. I'm just letting you know we're on liberty until 2400 then we're back in the staging area. We're heading for Kazar. I'm just letting you know ahead of time. However, there's a Division-wide order for combat casualties to be interviewed by H Corp liaisons. I assume your new team leader has brought you up to speed."

"He never fails, sir." I said, dropping my salute.

"Good. They'll be over at the old shopping mall. Now they're not going to get to personal. They just want to ask a few questions then you're out of there. Just be over there in ten." said the LT.

"Yes sir."

Dickerson started to leave, but then poked his head back into the tent. "Actually Corporal, make that thirty. The Hephaestus people have plenty of cash. They can wait."

And that was why I loved Lieutenant Dickerson. He just…got it. It wasn't because he was a lenient, carefree officer, the opposite was actually more appropriate. But he was loose enough for us to both like _and_ respect him. "Thank you, sir."

Dulcinea giggled. She usually didn't giggle, but I saw her face blush a bright red. Then she smiled once the LT was gone.

I was about to leave, even though everything in my soul told me to stay. Then my girl's voice became this soft purr. She started running her index finger through the bottom part of her hair. "You're not leaving already…are you?"

There were some situations in life that were just more important than others. Having your girlfriend naked underneath a sleeping bag was one of these.

***

**Twenty Nine Minutes and 57 seconds later…**

I didn't want to say goodbye again, but orders were orders. However, I was split on this H Corporation thing. I was a supporter of everything they did. But why did they need to speak to me? In a moment, I found the entire thing to be an exercise in needlessness. I just wanted to spend the rest of the day with Dulcinea. I thought spending this time with her would loosen me up, but as everything flooded into my mind, I became listless.

The period of escape with Dulcinea, in the end, did little to make me forget about anything. I wanted to forget the war, my parents, my sister, Lucy, the Dogmen, Soma, Musharak, everything. I wanted to have that perfect day alone with her. But then again, perhaps I was deluded in the first place to think I could forget about it all, Dulcinea or not. It was just pain. It was nothing but pain. And hate. I wanted to forget the hate, and now I had to interview with people I didn't want to see. I would have to remember everything about the chemical factory raid. I couldn't remember that much anymore. My mind was a muddled mess.

I couldn't breathe. I needed air and the room near Division headquarters was like being underwater without scuba gear. I had a choked feeling sitting there in the mall where Power Recon Division Command was based. I hoped I would see Commander Bohr and at least have some relief. But the sterile scene inside removed any hope of that.

Yuktobania was being sucked of its life by this Seelow Rot virus. Division Command was sucking the remaining life out of me that Yuktobania hadn't already. I didn't belong here at all. It was just too much rank for a mere Corporal.

Finally, after a tense few minutes of waiting, a man came and got me. He wore a suit underneath a flak vest and other armor. Oddly enough, the man looked a bit familiar. He seemed a little too attractive for a man. The black haired man looked like he was in his late thirties or early forties, but he certainly had a movie star quality to him. He was pretty built as well. And yet, he looked familiar. The man spoke in a Versuan accent, and as I was led into a room filled with office equipment and a desk set up. A vibrant looking cropped brown haired woman, also in her late thirties or early forties, greeted me with a handshake. She did kind of earn my respect. She had on a black blazer and black pants with no body armor on. In her left hand was a clipboard.

"Welcome. My name is Helena Sorenson, Executive of Military Personnel Affairs for the Hephaestus Corporation. I'm just going to ask you a few questions about the Ultimate Warrior Suit you've been wearing for the past several weeks."

The first thing I noticed was not the shifty purple-blue eyes or mascara darker than space. I didn't notice the gaudy wedding ring or the other expensive bracelets she had on. It was her title: Executive of Military Personnel Affairs. Why would Hephaestus need an _executive of military personnel affairs_? I knew they built the suits and everything. Then again, they did splurge for our Recon-poolza at St. Hewlett. And what was an _executive_ doing here?

We sat down facing each other. She sat down on a stool while I sat down on a white plush chair.

"First of all, allow me to extend my condolences for your niece. It's a terrible war out there. And I understand that you're quite the fan of some television show called…_Raven Bauer Project_, right? Too bad it finally ended, my daughter loved that show." she said.

My brain locked up. How did she know this? I hardly mentioned it to anyone outside our team. How did she know about Lucy? What was going on here?

"Uh…yeah." I said.

"The next time you go to Hollywood, go during the winter…the weather's exceptional. Though I imagine your comrade, Mr. Craft would know more about that. If I may make a suggestion, try the Red Mandalay Hotel. It's wonderful for someone in your income range." she said.

Sorenson's speech was clipped and almost glib. I couldn't think. How did this woman know everything about my Hollywood trip? How did she know about Cameron? I felt my brain was pulling in a million different directions. I apparently gave myself away because Mrs. Sorenson said something in response.

"Now, just relax. The questions and your answers will not leave this room." She said, her left hand touching the top of my palm.

I could barely respond. She asked me about everything that happened during the chemical factory raid. I told her everything I knew: Eric lighting up the building, me wanting to charge the office, the trap itself, and waking up in the hospital. Sorenson's legs were crossed and I found myself finding oddly attracted to those snug, shady, tiny wired pantyhose she had on. I closed my eyes for a brief second then opened them. While she asked me questions, she jotted down notes on her little clipboard. I just wanted to get out of there.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of B.S. questions, she extended her hand to me. My hand shook a little bit, but it finally made its way to her palm; her smooth, cold palm. "Thank you for your time. I do, however, have something for you."

Two of the aides fetched a box that was apparently too heavy for them, but light enough for me. They set it right in front of me. "What is this?"

Sorenson smiled, "A little care package for you and your entire team; compliments of us at H Corp."

I picked up the box. It was a plastic box about the four feet long and two feet wide. I really didn't want to do any heavy lifting, but if got me out of this suffocating room…

"Thanks." I said, trying to get out as fast as I could.

I wanted to run, but the box slowed me down a little. Whatever was in this box was meant for our guys. The least I could do was get it to them. Then, of all people, I saw Seto riding around in a golf cart he'd "borrowed" to cruise around the facility. I hitched a ride with him and Suzie. The rather hyper Yuke teenager started asking me about the conversion rate from Yuke to Osean money. She had a huge wad of Yuke cash on her equal to what I figured was 16,000 Osean dollars. I thought she stole it, but given what I knew about Suzie she either got it one of two ways: by whoring herself out or selling those drugs she always kept…finding. Neither would have surprised me. Though the first made me shudder thinking about it. I knew people were desperate…I didn't think she'd be that desperate. I finally got back to our camp and I took the box inside.

The massive tent held the balance of my new team, Team 3. Alphonso was commanding Team 3 until an officer arrived to command the unit. It seemed that Alphonso would never get to command a team by himself. Some were sitting around telling funny stories. Hoot was entertaining the others with his rather…raunchy stories about his Whiskey Tango wife. Rico was just pacing around, but he gave me a strangely hostile look when I entered. For what, I had no idea. Wash and Abernathy were talking about Kazar with Alphonso.

"Now these Kazar insurgents are tricky. I remember my pops was in Versua back in 2017, we could target these legit fools with no questions asked…" Wash said.

I walked up to them and dropped the box on the floor. The slick blonde haired and obviously white Adrian Abernathy asked me in his best ghetto voice, "What's going on, G?"

I found it a bit silly. Yet…I knew Demetrius Wash, the _actual_ black guy on the sniper team, found it hilarious.

"Some empty suit from the H Corp was asking me all kinds of questions and whatnot. Something she gave me." I said, "Alphonso…there's something I want to ask you. That woman, that Mrs. Sorenson, when you spoke to her…"

"Whoa!" shouted Martin. Eric had been wounded, but he was on light duty for the time being. He hobbled over to the box.

We all gathered around and looked inside. I thought it'd be a bunch of propaganda and strange water bottles from H Corp. The first thing I picked up was a cooling box, a black case about the size of my hand. It was a tiny, cheap refrigeration unit used to send perishable food items in the regular mail rather than freight. I opened it and there were six large chocolate spheres. I bit into the unhealthy goodness and tasted all kinds of sweet chocolate, almonds, and peanut butter. For a moment, it was almost as good as sharing a bed with Dulcinea. Everyone else tore through the package and found a cadre of interesting items. There was canned fish, saltine crackers, soup, batteries, extra Cadrex (a rifle cleaning solution), powdered chocolate, tape, beef jerky, cigarettes, chocolate covered peanuts, heavy metal and hip hop UMDs, a chess set, cards, cold medicine, and several books including the three _Raven Bauer Project_ spinoff novels (_Kill for a Dream, Can't Buy The Thrills, and Black Rose Serenade)_.

And that wasn't all. H Corp _definitely_ knew how to cater to the tastes of nineteen and twenty year old guys with weapons. There were eight different catalogues. One of them was a mail order bride catalogue. The other seven were a series of catalogues from upscale women's lingerie stores, including one I and my sister were all too embarrassingly familiar with: _Constance Barriea's Paradiso _on Sunset Boulevard and South Amsterdam Avenue in Hollywood. Despite my reservations about H Corp, they sure knew their stuff. They obviously cared about us…maybe a little _too_ much.

"I guess those corporate people aren't so bad after all." Rico said, flipping through the _Paradiso_ magazine, and then turning to me with the picture of some beautiful model in some white snow angel baby doll dress. "Hey, Brandon…Tasha would look awesome in this thing."

Abernathy, the entirely too white guy, was strangely the most pleased to get the hip-hop UMDs. He kissed one and said, "Sweet, homies. God bless Corporate Osea."

Just as I said that, Micho walked in along with a rather jittery looking Suzie. I guessed she must have been high off her own supply of meth. "What's going on now? What did I miss?"

Alphonso answered. "Nothing's changed. We're going to Kazar next. Its civilians are still loyal to Soma and it'll be rather interesting. We're going to roll with elements of 3/5. Raptor's on point, we're taking up the rear. Behind us will be the rear echelons for the 3/5, including your sis's company."

"Here's an interesting tidbit." Walt said walking over and pulling me aside. "You remember your mother's friend back in the Verusan War? You know, that woman who works for the Oured newspaper?"

I was excited. I loved Lillian, however strange and touchy-feely she was. "Lillian Izzo! She's awesome, but she is one…_weird_ woman."

"I heard she's imbedding with your sis' company. I think she's coming our way pretty soon too. She's doing some column on the changes in military life. Sweet, isn't bro? We're going to be celebrities." Walt said, ripping open the pack of chocolate peanuts and downing them a handful at a time.

I turned back to Alphonso. "I don't want to go off a tangent…but I just thought about it. Is it just me or didn't that Helena Sorenson kinda sound like that G1 woman?"

Next Chapter: The Calamity Jane Complex


	10. The Calamity Jane Complex

Chapter 10: The Calamity Jane Complex

**Brandon**

**August 31, 2037**

**1500 hrs**

"You're out of your mind. That's not her voice." Alphonso countered.

"I'm _telling_ you…it sounded like her." I said. I knew what I heard. It had to be; the pitches, the tone...

Wash finally spoke up, "Almost three days ago we had a transmission from G1…with a male voice."

And just like that, everything made sense and not at all. I decided to give the conspiracy theories a rest. My head was hurting.

"I give up." I said, throwing up my hands.

"It's a shame that we're not allowed to have any media outlet here. For the first time in my life, I want to watch the news. Dickerson said the Division order was set so it wouldn't affect morale. I get all my news from the Queue." said Teller.

"Why send Izzo to cover life in the Corps? It doesn't make any sense. She hates corporations, the government…" Walt added.

Hoot asked, "You know her Brandon, what is she _really_ like? Apart from her being a rug burner and all. They say she's a war hero or something."

I knew plenty about Lillian. She always flew up from Oured for New Year's, Circum Memorial Day, and our birthdays. You never knew what you were getting when Lillian Izzo came to visit and for Tasha and me, it was always a good thing; for my parents…not so much. Our tenth birthday was one of the fondest memories I had. Lillian came to our house in some bizarre white and yellow feathered ensemble I called the "Bird Suit". She gave Tasha this silk Red-Riding Hood cape and she got me an air gun, much to my mother's chagrin. She insisted I keep under lock and key, even though it fired non-lethal projectiles. The best part was when I realized that her flamboyant nature had nothing to do with the fact she liked the identical gender. It was that she loved life and everyone in it. Lillian told Cormorance, Micho's old man, about life in South Oured and the scene of Izzo and that Shawna woman sharing the slice of birthday cake and smashing it into each other's faces. Life was much simpler back then.

"She was a pretty good pilot in her heyday. My parents flew with her. She shot down like thirty enemy planes, and then promptly got shitcanned by the Air Force. She wrote this book about the war, then, the _Oured Post_ hired her eight years ago." I said.

Alphonso said, "_Catch a Lighting Wave, _right? I loved that book."

"Is it true she kept _spiders_ as pets?" Wash asked.

"She's got a whole _room_ in her house dedicated to spiders. It's freaky." I said.

Walt added, "I heard she's getting hitched to some woman in a few months. Talk about some crazy stuff."

After a dead period in the conversation, Captain Morrison walked in with appeared to be another officer. I thought he was a member of Battalion staff or one from another company. Both the Captain and the other officer had the same smooth, brown hair. But the other man was younger and a foot shorter. He had a set of narrow blue eyes and his round, baby-faced stare was slightly comical. But his posture suggested he was a recent graduate of Annapolis and Recon School.

"Good afternoon gents." said the Captain.

"Afternoon…Captain, sir, any additional word on the assault?" Alphonso said.

"Things are progressing at a natural rate. Everything is being put into position and all intelligence is tight. In other words, no word."

"Sergeant Adair, everyone…this is 2nd Lieutenant MacGruber. He'll be taking command of the team after we run through Severja. He'll only be an observer and advisor for the time being. He'll defer to you for the tactical decisions for now."

"Yes sir." replied the Sergeant.

As the Captain left, MacGruber relaxed his stance. He introduced himself to Alphonso with a handshake. I could immediately tell from his friendly demeanor and awareness of the room that he and the Sapinian would get along well. Of course, I also knew that from Hoot's shrug and derisive stance. I wasn't sure if MacGruber was a Dickerson clone. After all, he was an inexperienced officer. But I had confidence in him. However, if I was Tasha…I would have probably thought he was a retard right from the get-go. I always wondered if there was a phobia of commissioned officers. Tasha would've gladly been diagnosed.

"Lieutenant, welcome to Team 3. I'm Sergeant Alphonso Adair, Team leader as you know. We got a good corps of guys here. You'll like most of them. This is Corporal Rico Lazarus, heavy weapons. Corporal Eric Martin, we call him Eric the Red because he's crazy. He's on light duty for right now. We have the sniper team of Corporal Demetrius Wash, the kung fu master, and Lance Corporal Adrian Abernathy…spotter and the official white guy who thinks he black."

"That ain't funny 'yo. What do you expect when you're white like cocaine and grew up on Ten Mile?" Abernathy replied.

"Colorful group of people you have here." MacGruber said with a smile on his face.

"Sergeant Teller, Hoot as we call him…he's our company good 'ol boy and the best shot outside Wash and Abernathy. PFC Walter Snow, he's future wife abuser and heavy support gunner. PFC Mathis and Corporal Wilcox, they handle the C4. Bennett is going to be out for a few weeks. There's PFC Marco Desormeaux…who likes underage girls."

"Hey, Tatiana's legal Sergeant! Here and back in Orleans."

"Then there's Corporal Micho Alou…who likes _older_ women and underage _drinking_. Corporal Cameron Craft, our Hollywood tour guide but has been indefinitely banned from driving military vehicles. Lance Corporal "Big" Willie Chapman, he knows more about fishing than covering a sector."

"And finally, here is Corporal Brandon Black. You need _any_ info on radio frequencies, he's the guy. Plus some of our Team would trade their mother and two sisters for his girlfriend."

"It's good to meet you all. I hope to prove myself worthy of your trust in my future leadership." said the Lieutenant.

I knew at that point he would be, at worst, a decent officer. He certainly had a quieter sense of confidence. He spoke with a sort of Old Victorian comprehension.

"Okay, umm…let's go over this brief. I'll try to make things simple." said Alphonso.

Afterwards, we gathered outside to discuss the Kazar situation. The 09 LARA was outside near the road near our bivouac. Alphonso stretched out the AO map for the area.

"Kazar's been sticking in the CENTCOM's craw. Many civilians here are loyal to the Soma. This city stopped the advance of the 82nd. Terrorist forces along with Dogmen, keep making raids on rear elements of the 1st Marines…attacking straight from Kazar. Division's sending our Battalion right into Kazar. On our right flank will be the entire 82nd Airborne. 2nd Battalion's moving up with 2nd Regiment to support the assault on Severja. 1st Marines will make their final push for Severja in 24 hours. Our push begins at 0100. We're pushing right into the heart of Kazar after air and arty hit the city. Civilians have the entire south side to flee. At 0100 hours, Kazar is a free fire zone. 82nd will take and hold the city. Behind us, elements of 1st Marines…3/5…will be pushing through. The…154th Motor T will be directly behind us. The attack order will be Raptor, Vampire, and then us. Once we pass Kazar, we got fifty clicks of highway to Severja. We'll set up positions at the Darsi Bridge 20 klicks south of Severja. It's a full moon tonight. We'll have full illumination on the NVGs."

For the first time, I didn't think this was a good plan. It all the makings of a Charlie Foxtrot; air and arty, another branch of military, Dogmen and irregular fighters…my twin's company right behind us? It was a recipe for disaster.

"Do we have any air support? I haven't had time to look for the TADs." I asked, referencing the air radio frequencies.

"Yeah, because you were too busy _getting_ busy with Dulcinea." Walt said.

"Quiet," Alphonso sharply rebuked, "Army A-10s possibly, Cobras, and Comanche escorts…Loyalists are fighting to the extreme Western Sonza…too far away and most Marine air is tied up in Upper Gublina and Severja."

"Kazar's the Wild West, but be careful who you light up because civilians will be there. Hoorah?"

"Hoorah." We all said.

It was strange for Alphonso to be that driven, but I didn't sense any doubt in his voice. I thought it would be strange given his character; and there was nothing there. I noticed how quiet MacGruber was. He sat, taking notes as Alphonso laid out the order of vehicles for this mission and the future. Captain Morrison had shaken things up. After Kazar, I'd be riding in the Command Victor with the LT and Alphonso, along with Desormeaux, Abernathy, Wash and Chapman. It would the last time I'd ride with Walt and Micho in the LARAs for a long while.

After the briefing was over, one of the other NCOs from Werewolf, Sergeant Brannon of HQ Team, came by on a mail call. I dreaded opening my mail in front of the other guys because if I left, they'd follow. I'd been apprehensive because the last time I opened my mail, Dulcinea was gracious enough to send me a rather…racy photo of her. Someone stole it and I had to spend several hours tracking down the thief. But in this instance, it wasn't anything naughty. It was from mother's little monster…Astrid.

"Oh, man…they had the nerve to send me a cable bill. I'm a war hero, damn it!" said Cameron.

"What's that?" Willie asked me. I opened the envelope from Astrid. All I saw, besides the bedazzled and purple colored stock of paper was a single paragraph and a host of names. I just shook my head and laughed.

"My little sister sent me a letter. Her whole sixth grade class signed it and everything." I said.

"Does your family know about Lucy yet?" Willie asked. Willie Chapman was the opposite of Hoot. He wasn't loud or boisterous, he was a country kid...but he hated hunting. He preferred the quiet dignity of an afternoon fishing trip. He also almost never cursed.

"She still en route in Alaska. As far as I know…no word." I replied.

I wasn't trying to be facetious, but it certainly came out that way. At least, I thought at the time. The Marine Corps and war in general both have their share of dark humor…but I couldn't come up with an answer. There was an empty feeling inside. I couldn't go into battle feeling nothing. I left the letter behind and walked outside into the afternoon sun. My dad told me that before ever combat sortie, he'd try to go outside and look at the sky. There he thought about everything and everyone he'd lost and gained in the tumultuous wars in which he'd fought. My parents did so much to save hundreds of thousands of lives. But in the process, they'd sacrificed so much of themselves, took thousands of lives, and lost many people they loved and respected. They, the Razgriz _heroes_, made themselves into outcasts because the world had forgotten them and the aggressor nations hated them. And they took it all. I stood there and hoped I wouldn't have to endure the same fate. But the anger in me wouldn't make that easy.

_**Tasha**_

**1600 hrs**

I was _excited_. In fact, I knew Lillian probably thought the whole thing was orgasmic. Carly and Charles' opposing reactions both told the story. Lillian was on her way to us. She'd hopped on a plane the day before and was at Division as we sat around our billet talking about the move through Kazar. It was not a good plan, but I didn't care at all. I was just so anxious to see Lillian. And not mention, I was anxious to see how she would affect everyone else. Outside of me and "Nesha", as what her mother called her, no one was really anxious to have her here. The officers sure as hell didn't want her here. I could tell. Finch was giving us his briefing about the reporter situation. I could tell from his voice. He was not happy at all. Lillian was in striking distance; all she needed was the usual Kevlar packs and briefing there. Division Command was a heady place. It was like the VIP section at a club. I knew Brandon had visited _his_ Division headquarters. But when I asked him over a Queue, he didn't want to talk about it. The only thing he mentioned was that people from H Corp were there. But why?

"Okay, when this reporter gets here…all of this is subject for articles and a book. Some genius at CENTCOM gave her and her employer near free reign to publish anything said during her time here. The only thing is she can't communicate with anyone back home until the war is over. But basically it's like the cops. Anything you say can and will be used against you, but you don't _have_ to give her anything. I'm just warning you up front; if you don't want it said…don't say it when Ms. Izzo is around. Got it?" said Finch.

"Roger." most of us mumbled.

"Oh, I won't be _too_ harsh." said a familiar voice.

There was a woman there. She had a set of draping braids on the front of her hair while the rest of the blonde hair came down to her shoulders. She didn't have the usual cherub cheek and eye makeup. She looked like a hippie alright, but it was betrayed by the flak vest and the helmet she held at her side. With her were two medium sized bags. But she didn't have on the _Bird Suit_ this time. I was shocked. I thought she'd wear something extravagant like the purple and black tethered dress she wore to our high school graduation. Some people groaned when they saw her. Some just rolled their eyes. Carly and I simply smiled, looked at each other and nodded our heads in absolute agreement; as if we were both saying, _Oh...yeah!_

It was Lillian Izzo in the flesh.

"Lieutenant Finch, sorry to surprise you." Captain Wells said.

Finch looked stunned. "No problem Captain, sir…I assume this is Ms. Izzo?"

Just as he said that, I looked to my left and saw Carly South, who was behind everyone's field of vision, giving Lillian the goofy, cute wave she always did. She'd rapidly wave her fingers up and down with this goofy smile on her face. Of course, we, as in everyone in my family, knew the truth about Lilllian and Helena for some time. I'd long known; but…hell if I was going to out Carly and her future …step-mother. As Xanthia would say, I just didn't roll that way. However, Charles must have saw it too because he merely rolled his eyes.

"Courtesy of the _Oured Post Gazette_, she's going to embed with us for some time, so be gentle. I have to be away for awhile. Make sure nothing happens." said the Captain.

"Yes sir." he said. Then I saw Charles's face. He wasn't happy at all.

Finch interrupted, "Corporal Ellerbe, she'll be riding with your team when we step off."

There was this little moment where I could see Charles expend a little anger. His face twisted in a few different expressions all at once: anger, sadness, disappointment, confusion, and sheer embarrassment. I found it glorious. For once, I had to give Lieutenant Finch credit for making a smart decision.

He bit his lip, "Honored, sir."

"What about the step off, sir? Are we going in behind Recon or not?" asked Maris.

"Little's changed except the time. We're going in at 0100 tonight. Kazar's a free fire zone. Anything you see you shoot it. We'll be directly behind Recon, because some genius up at Division thought it'd be a _good_ idea to send us through a hostile city. We'll have good illume on the NVGs. We're heading straight through the middle of the city, then onto the U74 Highway. That's all."

Then he turned and left. I wasn't sure what happened, but some strange confidence invaded me.

"Hey, look on the bright side...we might pop our cherries." I said. With those words, I was greeted with a sea of awkward, blank faces.

"What?" I said. Sheepish, being my state of mind, was an understatement. Lillian sat down on of our chairs, drawing some nonverbal ire from some of the other guys.

"Well, she has a point. I can't wait to light up some Soma. I'm sick of riding in the back doing nothing." said Briscoe.

"Please, when Airborne and Recon's done with Kazar, they may not be a _mailbox_ for us to shoot. They're going to light up those Soma like it's cool." Xanthia said.

"I have to love this Calamity Jane thing. The empowerment of women in combat astounds me, even to this day." Lillian said, her floaty voice filling the air.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"The _Calamity Jane Complex_ was my idea about the motivation of women in dangerous situations. It was just a minor thing in my overall study of war and government. I think it's going to be the title of this book I'm working on now." she replied.

"And you came here to do that? This is the last place you need to be. I bet the second the bullets start flying you're gonna be on the next plane back to Oured Southie." said Sgt. Denton.

"I've been shot at before. I'm…" Lillian countered.

"In a _plane_. You got to sleep in your own beds in Versua. You and Micho's dad and Tasha's folks…you guys lived like kings and queens back then. Don't come at me saying you were _shot_ at. What was the worst thing you had to worry about? Sand storms knocking down the _one_ tent you guys had to build. _Please_." said Charles.

"Have you been shot at?" Lillian asked.

"That's not the point. I'm a grunt; I'm _expected_ to get shot at. Reporter, you're just some wine sipping sophisticate who thinks you're hard because you flew a plane in a war before most of us were even born or could have complex thoughts." Charles added.

"Did you read my book then?" Lillian asked, her hands on her hips.

"No, I don't need to read that crap. It's all a bunch of left-wing bias." Charles said.

"Well, I have a suggestion: why don't you sacrifice one of your nightly self-gratification routines and take a look at what we had to go through back then, like…I don't know…evading superheated electricity…and if you're still not convinced, I'll go ahead and leave."

Everyone gasped a little bit. Charles was apparently not offended at all...but was surprised. "Hey, I don't want you to go. I got have my people to make fun of…including you. Plus, I don't want a stray bullet hitting our RTO, who like you…is a walking mass of contradictions."

"From what I've seen, you're entire platoon is a walking mass of contradictions." quipped Lillian.

"Okay guys, enough teasing the reporter. She's here to do a job; we have a job to do. Go ahead and start packing your stuff. We're not going to be staying at BP for awhile. Any loose ends, you better wrap it up now." Sergeant Maris said.

We all seperated and I followed Lillian outside. I sometimes forgot she was 43 years old. There were times she certainly didn't act like it. When I told my father about this, he said she was 43 going on 26. There were some that thought she was on Zelene, an anti-aging substance. Zelene was an illegal intravenous anti-aging drug. She did look a little younger than her age...but Zelene was a huge issue with the rash of heart attacks suffered from Zelene users. Now...there were times I thought that maybe, just maybe, Lillian Izzo was on something. I wouldn't have been surprised if she was.

I approached her, she put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to her. She then pushed my head to her shoulder blade, her hand rubbing the side of my neck. I didn't have my helmet on so she couldn't tug on my hair like she could when I was younger. Of course, I didn't have _any _hair to tug.

"How are you darling?" she said. She always called her friends _darling_.

"It's been months since we've seen you. I heard the news though. It must be pretty crazy." I said.

"It wasn't _my_ choice to come here actually. It really put a crimp in our plans." Lillian said, "How's Brandon doing?"

How was he doing? What else was I going to say? Brandon never changed. He was still the immature, skilled soldier who could spend hours talking about a lot of useless crap.

"He's still Brandon; a lover, a killer, and a little boy inside a soldier's body." I replied.

"And you are the same, except a little girl in a soldier's body?" Lillian added.

"Well, I haven't gotten to fire my weapon. I'm the one driving the Humvee."

"It's good to know my life is in your hands; as well as your…_friend's_." Lillian said, scoffing.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Don't mind Charles. He's an asshole but he's a _smart_ one apart from the _other _dozens of retards in this company."

"They're treating Nesha okay?" she asked me.

"Let me put it this way: they think she's bad luck. I told Carly that Nagase told Brandon and me as kids that those guys in the air force treated you like shit because you were unique. It always nagged at her." I said.

"I know the feeling. Nesha's just like me. Trust me darling, they'll be thanking her someday for being there. Then again, everyone back home is probably going to feel the same way. But no one's getting any straight news. Everyone thinks I'm hardcore Democrat. No, I'm just going by what I _believe_."

I took her back inside our billet to show her what I meant. I ripped through my ruck and found Astrid's handwritten letter to me. She always sent us these things with these strange colored envelopes. She always sent me the pink envelopes. But one problem of the Corps was that if you open a letter in front of others...they'll try to get their hands on it.

"Oh, Tasha's got a letter! Public property!" Jason said. He ripped it open as I tried to take it from him.

"Give that back!" I shouted. Jason read it aloud.

"What the hell is this crap? _Dear Tasha: I really miss you and Ran. I hate the fact that the people for news network lying about you guys. You guys are heroes for fighting in a stupid war. I really hate the fact they're making you fight this war. War is a terrible thing and it only takes away the people you love. I wish it would end but what would happen to the Yukes? I know Aunt Sueltana is still missing and that's what makes it so difficult. Maybe if war never happened, they'd be living in peace."_

Charles took it and slammed it on the ground, got up and paced about the ten addressing the room. "That is some hippie, communist crap! I'm sorry to disappoint you Astrid Black, but we Marines are trained to kill people. I am a warrior. I work out until I bleed, then I do some more pushups and run another mile! At the end of it, I clean my rifle and wait for orders! I wake up every day just for the chance to kill something."

"Posing philosophical ideas at eleven? That's impressive." Xanthia said. I was more embarrassed than angry.

The intellectual Xanthia was not needed right now. I wanted bitter Zanne back.

"Zanne," I said, "You're talking like a white woman again."

"Whatever…sis." she said. We bumped knuckles again and the entire thing was forgotten. Lillian just laughed.

**Brandon**

**2300 hrs**

I remembered the Lucy situation and I finally sent my parents a Queue mail about the issue. My parents were heartbroken. Their words in their reply were depressing and I couldn't bear to read them anymore. I told them not to tell Tasha because I didn't want her doing something stupid. She was going to drive into a hostile city at night without Recon's advantages. The last thing she needed to know was her niece couldn't talk because some Dogmen sociopath cut her tongue out. It still made me shiver when I thought about it.

Though in reality, if something went horribly wrong...it would not be Tasha's doing. It would be her company mates. Her company was filled with all sorts of sketchy people. Abernathy's father, the senior NCO or Gunny Abe, was involved in drugs in Rutherford and walked out on Adrian's mom. Even Xanthia, who Tasha looked up to, was a cokehead kleptomaniac. Charles, a fact Micho _swore_ he knew this, cheated on his wife every time his company went on leave and lectured other people about how much he loved his spouse. Of course, Jason was no better. It was a running joke that the entire Transportation Battalion in 1st Marines were made up of people who couldn't make Recon.

But all I could feel was loss. As I walked to Dulcinea's tent, I felt I couldn't live with myself if I did lose someone I caed about. None of it was in my control and I only felt empty.

I still had Dulcinea though. She was safe. I couldn't control it, but that much was true. I wanted to say my goodbyes to her because our next billet would be Severja, the ancient city of the Tatars...or whatever it was called. I walked in and considering the circumstances, she was radiant. She ditched the bloody clothes for a clean white t-shirt and black sweats, but she still had those same ragged shoes.

I just grabbed her and we didn't say anything because we both knew I was leaving. I just hugged her for over half an hour, rocking her back and forth, just wishing it would never end. Maybe the Soma would surrender that night and we could all go home. But it wouldn't happen. It was awkward by twenty minutes, but I didn't care. I wouldn't let her go. I did have this advantage over everyone else. In the darkness of night, the fear went away and the loss vanished in an ironic sense. Here I was saying goodbye, but I felt fuller. The only thing I could worry about was Kazar. There were reserves of anger and revenge...but it was enough to keep me going with a full soul.

She stopped and gave me the rosary beads. "Take it. It might save your life someday."

I took the beads from her, confused. I just stared at them, wondering how this would help me. I appreciated the re-gift, but what did she mean? Then, she looked straight at me. "There's something I have to tell you. It's really_, really_ important."

"You're not going to tell me what I think you are, right?" I said. I was scared for a moment. I knew what she was going to tell me...for a moment. But a second later, I knew that seemed stupid. And it was a shame too; I prided myself on not saying things like that.

"And what is that?" she said. But she wasn't patronizing me with her voice.

"Yo, Brandon!" I heard a voice call outside the tent.

"I'm kinda busy here!" I yelled back. It was Micho.

"Dude, we gotta go! We're Oscar Mike in ten minutes!" he said.

"Damn!" Now I was pissed. I was getting sick of all these changing orders. Dulcinea pulled me closer to her.

"Don't get killed on me." she said. This time, it wasn't as much worry as it was a _demand_. As if she was giving me an order not to die. Therefore, I just laughed it off.

"I'll save the dying for the Soma, baby." I said.

Dulcinea shook her head and chuckled. Whatever it was, maybe it wasn't important after all. Maybe she thought it was to her. I kissed her one last time and fled into the night. We loaded up into the LARAs, drove into the sea of nocturnal green beneath our eyes of night vision sights.

_**Tasha**_

**2330 hrs**

We were just sitting around our trucks, staring into the night. Southerland, who'd snuck out of the aid station, was with us. I could only wonder how she was managing to stay upright, given that when I was sick, I could barely move for twenty four hours. However, she told us that she'd been misdiagnosed. She _had _in fact contracted Seelow Rot and the sickness that came with it actually had a faster recovery rate than my illness. _Lucky bitch_, I thought humorously.

I hadn't seen Lillian in awhile. I didn't know much about her and Helena Southerland. Given she was completely out of the closet, it didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was Carile Nesha Southerland ending up in my company. She never really talked about her family. Everyone was under the impression she was just some rich kid playing Marine. The only thing was…she wasn't born into new money. All I knew was that her mother got a huge inheritance from her parents based upon some technicality in North Point law when she was eleven. She'd come from a normal family…that is, if one considered a normal family to be your mother turning into a lesbian after a divorce.

But what Carile didn't talk about her family, she made up for it with her borderline obsessive knowledge of softball; something she treated with religious fervor. I didn't give a shit about softball. I thought it was a boring sport, but Carile actually made it seem like it was much more popular than it was. My only question was…why did she join the corps? She never answered it.

In the meantime, I told the others a rather interesting story from my childhood. One thing that amazed me was the international influence in the Corps. There were half-blooded Oseans and other races all over the place. Immigrants, expatriates, even refugees found a home in the Corps from all over the world. Belka, Yuktobania, Versua, Sotoa, North Point, Aurelia, Fato, Sapin, Ustio, Ratio, Erusea, Estovakia, Emmeria…they were from everywhere. I sometimes wondered if I was the only true pure blooded Osean in the company. I sitting near Lillian, Nesha, PFC Emilio White and Corporal Felix Briscoe. White had to take Nesha's place for this mission since she was still under aid. Briscoe and Southerland rode with Finch on the Command Victor, a most…honorable position.

"There was this one time when we were kids, we got lost in this amusement park. It was my fault, I kinda wandered off into the Gypsy section and Brandon took off looking for me. We wound up in this weird tent with these fortune tellers. We were both almost eight years old. We were _so_ lost but they were really cool. They read our palms and everything. This old woman, this…hag who looked like she had herpes, melanoma, and a goiter all at once, she said our destiny lay in a far away land. I thought it meant something out of those cartoon movies we looked at." I said.

"I guess she was right." Lillian said with a smile.

I continued, "Then her daughter or some chick took us back to the main gate. There was this guy at the parking lot who claimed to know us. He had this strange buzzcut, thick glasses and a duster on…even though it was July. He was a real thick guy… very imposing. He's got this wicked smile on his face. And this chick didn't know…she was like what, sixteen? She leaves us with this mouth breather. He's trying to get us to come into his car, says he got candy and video games and stuff. Brandon, to his credit, realizes were in a dangerous situation. He's saying no because he _saw_ the way he was looking at me. I thought I recognized the guy…then my folks run over and sees him. The guy grabs us with one arm and pulls a knife with the other."

"Holy crap." Carly said.

"Now, my mom was like…38 then? She was what…120 pounds against a guy who was what, 240…250?" I said, looking at Lillian.

"Your mom was real fierce when it came to protecting you guys. There was one time when you guys were three…where she punched a guy in the face after she ran into back of your car." said Lillian.

"Well, this time she wasn't so lucky. She got slashed in the shoulder real bad. Still has the scar from it. She kicked him in the nuts so hard her shoe went flying. Then my dad comes over and drop kicks this guy. One shot, down for the count! My dad kicked the shit out of him. It was a great family bonding experience." I said barely holding back my laughter.

Nesha scoffed.

"My real dad would have never done that. He always had a drinking problem. He lost his job and got drunk on my eighth birthday. He hit my mom in her face on my party at this amusement park and my mom shoved him into one of the rides and got crushed to death." Carly said, "Then my grandpa died when I was eleven, leaves my mom money in the low nine figures and my uncle tried to have my mom killed to get her inheritance. That was _my_ family bonding moment."

"Wow…that's messed up." White said.

"Guys! We're on! We're moving out early." shouted Gunny Abernathy, running up to our position, "Let's go! We're Oscar Mike!" he continued. Carly ran back to the aid station while everyone else ran for their trucks and Hummers.

We all hopped into the vehicle. Lillian had a rather humorous go about putting her helmet on and nearly falling down.

"Reporter, welcome to hell!"Charles said, roaring with laughter as she got in. Lillian was sitting right next to Xanthia, cramped in the back as Jason was on the turret.

"All X-Ray vehicles, radio check." said Captain Wells.

Charles picked up the receiver, "Two Four Actual, standing by."

"All X-Ray vehicles, this is X-Ray Two Actual. We are Oscar Mike to Highway U74." said Captain Wells.

Charles began setting up his rifle and the Blue Force tracker. "Recon's in front of us. Werewolf, I think. What's our TAD with the air escorts, Xanthia? "

Xanthia replied, "Got no rogers on the TADs. I _think_ I can get into Recon frequencies…I'll need some time though."

"Do you have any idea how many freqs they use?" asked Jason.

"I got an inside track, Jason. Don't worry about it. Have faith in Black Power." Xanthia replied.

As everyone turned on their engines, Xanthia began to sing. Lillian was a bit confused, which in turn confused me. She knew I liked to sing. She just hadn't been with us until this point. They'd picked up the habit. We knew what Xanthia was singing. She'd done it a million times. However, even as the order to stand by came over the wire, we didn't care. We sung anyway. But given our mission, we altered the lyrics just a tad. Speaking of Black Power...

We all started rapping, "Hey, hey…it's all about killing Soma today. Because the boys in the hood are all the same, all the same…packing nines, rings and a forty to go. Hey, hey…it's all about killing Soma today. Because the girls in the hood are all the same…packing shiny jewels, knives and skirts too low…"

_**Tasha**_

**September 1, 2037**

**0430 hrs**

Kazar had three main roads. Kazar was known for its wide streets but the enemy had made chokepoints all along the highways. There were only three ways through, codenames: MSR (Main Service Route) Detroit, MSR Angel Land, and MSR Midnight. U74, our objective was near MSR Midnight and Angel Land.

There was just one problem. We weren't anywhere near them. We were twenty klicks south of Kazar when we were ordered to halt. The first problem came when Recon's Raptor Company was nearly bombed by friendly planes. Then retards up at Battalion started changing the orders. We move for a few clicks and then we'd stop, start, and then stop again. Apparently, the same thing was happening in Recon. They weren't anywhere near the city yet. I knew my brother had to be pissed with all this incompetence. He just wasn't used to it. _What was going on that they couldn't punch into town?_

I could only listen to everyone's stories for so long. I nearly lost it. There were times I wished I had my mother's grace and patience. But then again, she had her own retards to deal with at Sand Island. They just went by different names: Perrault, Hamilton, Thunderhead...

But the biggest retard right now was Musharak...for starting this war. My other sister was lost in this vast wasteland wiped away by whatever this Seelow Rot was. No one knew where it came from. There were even some people who doubted the Soma even created it in the first place. Some, like Charles, changed their theories to an idea the virus was _not_ man-made. How could it? All this while we were parked alongside of dirt road in the ass end of Lower Gulbina.

"What are we _waiting_ for? It's been six damn hours!" I shouted. "Stop, start, stop, start...ugh! Goddamnit!"

I started banging my head don the steering wheel.

"Tash! Cool it. Take a deep breath." Charles said.

"Ah, the classic hurry up and wait. This never happens in the air force." Lillian laughed off. I was upset at her...after all, she'd slept most of the way.

"82nd Airborne's been fighting tooth and nail inside the city while we sit on our goddamn hands." Xanthia said. She was angry.

"Who cares? If they can't fight an urban battle by themselves, then they don't deserve to be called an elite unit." said Charles. He did have a valid point, but it was something he needed to say.

"X-Ray Actual to all X-Ray Victors, Recon is pushing into the city. Stand by." said the Captain.

"What else are we going to do? Seriously?" I said.

I was not too happy with Captain Wells. Ever since the officers got into Yuktobania, something flipped for them. There was something wrong with all of them. No one told Finch off for the Ak-47 incident. And Captain Wells kept changing orders and radio frequencies whenever he felt like it. It was almost as if three quarters of officer corps had no idea what they were doing. Supply Company didn't get us enough batteries for the thermal scopes and Carlton didn't trust the locals to help us translate Yuke. No one in the company other than Me, Carly, and Swafford knew any Yuke. Swafford was a driver. Carly had no respect from anyone. So surely she, of all people, the one who spoke Yuke _perfectly, _was not suited for translation duty. I wonder what the thought process was on that one:

_Yeah, let's ignore the Private who could speak Yuke without missing a beat or unlike our sister company, let's __**not**__ hire a local to translate. Instead, let's go for the overworked Tasha Black who has to drive for days without sleep and now she's got to translate three dialects of Yuke. Yeah, that's a __**great**__ plan._

"Zanne, do we have comms with Recon?" Charles asked. He sounded incredibly impatient.

"I told you brother…I've working on it! Jesus Christ!" Zanne spat back.

It was a good ten minutes of nothing. We just sat there with Lillian as she took notes from our conversations. Izzo wasn't her usual talkative self. Then we were amazed when she pulled out her own set of NVGs, a special civilian version; something for which she paid 500 dollars. We would have raided her for the batteries, but hers were incompatible with our NVG devices.

"Wait…I got it now!" Xanthia exclaimed.

"How'd you hack into Recon freqs?" Lillian asked.

Xanthia said, "I overheard the Sapinian guy talking to Tash's brother and the Belkan guy…Sheckinhosen or whatever his name is. They talked about UHF-14 or something. Encryption protocols...those things are hard to decipher unless you're good…like me. They like to switch things up. Single units are UHF for inter-squad communications. They have enclosed comms with squads and fire teams…unlike us. But they don't use one frequency plain. They don't need RTOs because of their special comms, but someone like me can circumvent it because their radios aren't as advanced as they _think_ they are. The only problem is I can only trace a plain…like two squads or something. Hang on…I got it!"

I listened to the beginning transmissions. I knew most of the voices on them. Rico told me he was riding with Chapman, Micho, Walt, Brandon...and this new Lieutenant named MacGruber. I knew Chapman from Infantry School. He tried to get me on a fishing trip, but I declined. He was a nice man, but I'd rather have lied down on the railroad tracks and let the Trans-Pacific train run over me than go on a fishing trip. If I was sent to hell, I knew fishing would be my punishment. _And _w_hat the hell kind of a name was MacGruber,_ I thought_._

_Rico: "Let me get this straight, you, your mother…and Elizabeth D'Shubert were all in a lingerie store together?"_

_Brandon: "Rocketman, it was one of those bizarre encounters that could only happen to me."_

_Cameron: "It was that Constance Barriea's Paradiso on Sunset Boulevard and South Amsterdam, right? My mom used to work there. She'd always say she felt unclean after working. I didn't see the big deal. That place has the most upscale intimates store in Osea. It was always filled with hot chicks from Rodeo. I met Bree there! She used to live in Manhattan Shore."_

_Micho: "Oh, I love Manhattan Shore. Place's got the hottest forty year old women in the world."_

_Sheckenhousen: "Werewolf Lima One to Werewolf Juliet One. Raptor's in contact ahead."_

_Alphonso: "Roger, break. Enough Hollywood…game on gentleman. Lieutenant MacGruber, now we get to earn it."_

_Walter: "For someone who thinks Hollywood's overrated…Brandon sure talks about it a lot." _

_Brandon: "Well, maybe if the Soma would stop shooting at us...I can finish, dumbass."_

"Your brother's quite the spifire, isn't he?" Lillian asked. The Recon guys were like children talking in the back seat.

_Teller: "Okay, guys. Be quiet and focus."_

I started blushing. I couldn't believe that Brandon had the guts to tell his squad mates that _embarrassing _story. Nagase, my mom...she never shied away from telling us about her past with one exception: the Hollywood Story. My mother would never, _never _discuss the details of that story. It was almost as if it never happened. What amazed me was their patience. They obviously were used to this over all these days of warfare. My question was...why was Recon waiting? Recon was holding us up.

After a long pause, we heard a series of loud sounds. It was like a chain gun was going off.

_Teller: "What the heck is that?" _

_LT: "Comanche squadron's above us."_

_Chapman: "I love those things. It's darn near impossible to hit a Comanche with a SAM; taxpayer money for good use. My brother pilots one of those things."_

_"This is Werewolf Alpha to all Victors: be advised. Dogmen are in the city. I repeat, Dogmen are inside the city."_

My heart almost stopped. I heard plenty of stories about them executing White Crow workers, torturing Loyalist and Osean prisoners of war, and just the general brutal, inhuman way they conducted themselves. I was scared to death for Brandon and Dulcinea because of them. But Typical Brandon, he acted all hard and cocky. He was never afraid of them...and neither were his teammates.

_Cameron: "More of the psychos coming to play? Let's give 'em something to play with."_

There was this long series of clipped communications. It was the typical chaos of moving into a combat zone. It lasted for several minutes.

_Alphonso: "Why are we slowing, Teller? What's going on up there?"_

_Teller: "Too many flashes from the chopper rockets. They keep washing my NVGs out."_

_Alphonso: "Just go straight. Now, it looks like...wait. Hoot, halt the vehicle!"_

_Walt: "What!"_

_Alphonso: "Werewolf Alpha, this is Werewolf Juliet 1, Vampire's halted. What is going on?_

_Alpha to all units: be advised. Raptor's reported contact with enemy tanks ahead, possible Samizats._

Now my heart really stopped. I heard rumors about _them_ too. I knew what those things were capable of from those rumors. They'd turned back an attack by 101st Apaches. It was like something out of my worst nightmares.

_Walt: "Oh, hell no! Not those again!"_

_Rico: "How the hell did they wheel those up on a short notice?"_

I wasn't sure either. As we sat there listening to the short, tense communications, I began to fear for the guys we listened to; but it seemed that, for the part, they weren't _that_ concerned about the events around them. We looked up into the town and saw a few flashes on the west side of town. The Werewolf Victors began moving again, then...

_"All Victors, this is Werewolf Alpha, Team 1 and 2, halt to herringbone, Team 3 pull off by second intersection and hold. Air's making a sweep of the west side."_

_Dickerson: "Werewolf Beta to Alpha, Raptor's made it through."_

_Brandon: "Why are we stopped? What's going on?"_

_Alphonso: "Not sure. I'm trying to get some situational awareness on this."_

_Micho: "I'll tell you what it is...no one knows what's going on right now."_

_Alphonso: "You may be right, Corporal. Well, at least I have no idea right now."_

_LT: "This is insane. They're cut off from the battalion. Are they going to pull off Second Battalion to reinforce?"_

_Brandon: "Probably not, sir. You can't rely on Raptor for anything. Frankly, I'm surprised they didn't get schwacked in the city."_

_Alphonso: "This is going to be a long trip. We've wasted hours just to go a few klicks into this dead city."_

Then the communication went off. We all turned to Zanne and she started working again. A few tense minutes passed as we could barely hear the faded communications. We knew at some point they'd taken more enemy fire, but as radios often did...they washed out under interference from everything...mechanical, resonance, even where they were in the city. At least, that's what Xanthia said.

"What's going on?" Lillian asked. Zanne turned her head towards Izzo.

"Vampire's made it through. Werewolf is halting for five mikes to evac wounded Marines from Vampire." she said.

"Can you boost it, Zanne?" Charles said, unable to hear the radio. After Zanne kept with the radio and the sockets, she finally got the radio to where we could hear it. Of course, that required some interesting...jury-rigging.

_Alphonso: "Werewolf Juliet One to Werewolf Theta, interrogative: What's the status on the cas-evacs?"_

_"Ten minutes, ETA for evac. Hold defensive positions."_

_Alphonso: "Not really SOP…but roger that. Juliet 18 and 13, check out that parking lot. 19 and 14, you guys push out twenty meters; check those alleys."_

I recognized the voices of nineteen and fourteen. It was my Rico and Brandon.

_Brandon: "This is 19, I got possible foot mobiles in the alleyway."_

_Teller: "Juliet 2 to 19 and 14, if they got weapons, light 'em the hell up."_

_Brandon: "Copy."_

_Rico: "He keeps poking his head up."_

_Brandon: "Wait! Don't shoot!"_

_Rico: "Jesus Christ. I almost shot that kid! It was just some stupid girl playing peek-a-boo." _

I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew Rico enjoyed the combat and war in general, but I knew he couldn't allow any unneeded blood on his hands.

_Rico: "Tasha would have been pissed if I shot that kid."_

_Brandon: "Well, no shit…you obvious bastard."_

_Rico: "I wonder how she feels about what I'm doing."_

_Brandon: "Did you write that love letter to Tasha?"_

My eyes bulged._ What was he talking about?_

_Rico: "That's none of your business."_

_Brandon: "Oh, I think it is. She's my sis and I want to know if you're doing right by her."_

_Rico: "Well, you have your opinions. As far as I'm concerned you take those opinions and shove 'em right back up your ass."_

_Brandon: "Retard…all you have to say is, yes I did write that letter. End of discussion."_

_Rico: "__**Why**__ are you doing this to me?"_

_Brandon: "I saw how Dulcinea looked at you. Is it true…that you two dated once?"_

Charles smirked. I wanted to slap the shit out of him and Rico.

_Rico: "Yes, it's true. And there's always some part of me that'll miss her. But it's for reasons you or Charles can never understand. Something that she hates me for, something Tasha can never know…"_

_Brandon: "What are you…oh snap, contact left! Contact left!"_

"What happened?" I said, desperate.

Xanthia replied coldly. "They came under fire. Cut off the transmission."

"See what I meant?" Charles said.

We waited for about ten more minutes. It was the longest ten minutes of my life. Doubt began to creep into my soul and it was a shame...since I swore not to be the jealous girl. But this was too much. Everything Charles had said suddenly made sense, even if his story was rather sketchy. I had to find out the truth; but a war zone was not the right place to do investigative work on one's significant other. I was wrapped up in my own emotions and I didn't hear the call to move out.

"Tasha, we're on the move." Charles aid firmly. Then I just snapped.

"About freaking time! Jesus Christ!" I shouted. I wasted no time in turning over the car. This war was pissing me off.

_**Tasha**_

**September 1, 2037**

**0600 hrs**

The summer months meant that the sun rose early in this place. Plus, there was something about Yuktobania topographically that made the sun rise sooner than in Osea. By 0600 the sun was in view. Kazar had about 100,000 people in the city. But the city was cramped, dark and congested. It looked more like a Versuan city. I was sure that up ahead, Alphonso was entertaining my twin brother with his story about Kazar's history: how what's his name founded blah-blah-blah in year too-old-to-remember and he did it because people from Group A persecuted Group B and yada, yada, yada…

The road to the town was filled with the ruins of war. There were destroyed T-72s, BMPs, Strykers and Amtracs, crashed planes, unexploded munitions, damaged and abandoned humvees, smoking Zil trucks and mud was everywhere. All around the entrance to the adobe looking town was walls…but they were crushed and broken. We could've walked over it if we wanted too. This was where 82nd had been stopped days ago.

There were nothing but smoke plumes from the city. On the east side, we could see the explosions where 82nd continued to fight their bitter struggle against the city's insurgent defenders. Radio said that they'd taken close to 200 casualties. I drove us through the destroyed city walls and cramped road of MSR Detroit. The first thing I saw, besides the ruined buildings and muddy streets…were bodies. They weren't civilians, but they weren't regular Soma troops either. They were obviously the paramilitary forces everyone talked about. They all had weapons in their hands or near their corpses. Charles pointed out that these were fresh. Oddly enough, I didn't become ill or anything at this. After all, these guys deserved what they got.

"Man…they tore this city up; Recon shooting insurgent bastards like it's cool." Xanthia said.

We knew Recon did the damage. Xanthia and Lillian pointed out how smart the insurgents were for opening up on the rear elements first. But they were, as Lillian said, overmatched. Everything along the streets was either destroyed, shot up or in flames. Some of the bodies were cut apart as arms and legs were missing. Those Nano-Bushmasters they had ripped their attackers to pieces. I knew Rico had a hand in this…as well as Brandon. I knew they enjoyed it. Hell, I would have too.

"Check out that place. It looks like a nursing home." Lillian said. "Or what's left of it. My goodness...your brother's unit tore them apart."

As we passed the heavily damaged nursing home, we came to the second part of the city. The rubble made travel onto the highway from MSR Midnight impossible. We had to divert to MSR Angel Land. As we made the turn, I saw a black SUV in a parking lot near an old apartment building of some type. In the midst of all this destruction, this one building and car was untouched. To the left was an alleyway filled with trash and rubble. I knew as I looked around the environment that it was the exact spot Werewolf halted. The six enemy bodies near the left sidewalk, the little child playing near the porch on the right…totally innocent and ignorant of her surroundings...

"Tasha, halt the vehicle." Charles said.

"What?" I said, slamming on the brakes.

"Orders from battalion, but that's all I know." Charles said angrily, "What's going on up there? What is Colonel Miller thinking…us stopping here? This is a kill zone with a capital K. The LT's messing with our SOP."

Then, Sergeant Ellis came on the radio, "We're sitting ducks here! This is the last place we should have stopped! We need to get the heck out of here now!"

I wasn't sure why Ellis, of all people, was blowing his stack on the radio. It wasn't like him at all. Charles spit out the window and series of loud bangs next to us shook us all. I became furious.

"Is Finch firing those AKs from his vehicle _again_!" I said. Lillian looked right and saw the kid wisely run into the house.

"_Why_ is your platoon commander shooting up a car?" Izzo asked. She was raged.

Charles got on the radio, "X-Ray 24 to Two Actual. Interrogative: why are you engaging a non-hostile vehicle?"

Finch replied, "We have to deny these insurgents vehicles. They love using them for suicide attacks!"

There was this long period of silence after he stopped firing. I kept thinking about how much of a retard Finch was. If we got ambushed and I got killed, that would have been my last thought. It wasn't that his logic was entirely false, but one with any common sense did not go about firing wildly out of a military vehicle, and unannounced at that.

"Umm…Echo Three Bravo, I require your assistance up at our position." Finch said, obviously referring to me. I took the radio from Charles.

"Roger," I said. I slammed the receiver down, turned to Lillian and scoffed, "Lillian, take this down. It is in this Marine's opinion that the Retard to Reasonable Person Ratio in the Corps is three to one."

I got out of the vehicle and walked over to the LT's position. Lillian got out of the Humvee and followed me. I made my feelings clear, "I could have been at Annapolis. But _no_. My test scores weren't good enough because Madame President Shelley thought the middle class wasn't elite enough to be officers. The pipelines for the officer corps are a bunch of rich kids."

Lillian smiled, "I couldn't have said it any better myself. I did an article on that by the way."

We arrived and all we could see was a woman sobbing over her shot up car. She was dressed in some black shawl with a headwrap on; the traditional dress of the Fundamentalist Jaair Yukes...our enemies. But this woman wasn't an insurgent. She was just a civilian who, like an idiot, stayed inside the city while it was being bombed. I explained to the LT why Recon didn't engage the vehicle. The _car_ wasn't shooting at them...so they didn't light up the only valuable thing she had other than her home and kids.

Lillian and I just stood there, looking at this sad woman despondent over a cheap SUV. I wasn't sure whether to be angry at Finch for firing an enemy weapon at the vehicle for no reason and subsequently not calling the target or to feel sorry for the woman for losing the only luxury she had. Then again, I wasn't sure if I should have been angry at the woman for supporting the Soma in the first place. Maybe she deserved what she got…maybe not. She _was_ a Jaair Yuke. It wasn't like Sueltana who was red-blooded Cinigrad-Yuke.

Then, I saw Lieutenant Davis over with a few of the other guys from HQ posing for pictures with the dead insurgents. All of this stupidity was occurring in a city that wasn't even secure yet. Izzo looked ill and I shook my head in anger. I just walked away disgusted and tired of the retardation to which I'd been subjected. _I should have joined the air force._

But there was little I could do. Who was going to listen to a Lance Corporal? The other officers constantly undermined the NCOs. I was beginning to think that the Company Placement Officer after infantry school _wasn't_ joking when he put me with the "retards and screw ups" of 154th. There were plenty of smart people in the right places, but too many dumb ones in the same areas.

But, what was I going to do? I decided to ride it out for the time being. Everything had an end…didn't it?

I just left it to my bitching sessions with the others. I made my opinions, however, perfectly clear with Lillian Izzo in my f-word laced tirade on the way back to the Humvee.

_Christ_, I thought, _Mom_ _and Dad never knew I'd develop such a filthy mouth._

We got back into the car and we were Oscar Mike again. I didn't want to think about the scene and I almost got away with distracting myself. But once again, someone screwed up and we made a wrong turn. As we tried to unscrew ourselves...

"It's amazing to look at all this destruction. You never see it in the air force after the pass and drop is over." Lillian said after a short period.

"Maybe we'd be already out of this if our retarded officers didn't have us take a wrong turn!" I said. My patience was thin.

"This town's dead. Recon's through. Airborne's pushing left. This is just plain bad tactics." Charles said.

As we finally got turned around I said, "Gee, you think! Battalion staff had to be stoned out of their minds when they came up with this plan!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Calm down, Tasha. You're losing it…but that doesn't mean you're wrong." Charles said, tacking on the last part in a quieter voice.

"That sounds like something Polly would say." Lillian said rather quietly.

"Polly? Who's that…your ex-girlfriend from back in Versua?" Jason added.

Lillian replied, "No. Silly. Tasha's mother was my girl crush back then. No, Polly Elbe was my dear old pal. I never had a better wingman." Lillian then droned on in a sing-songy voice, "Up went Polly into the sky one day over a city called Disra…down went Polly along with a massive weapon. My good friend died that day…never to come to the ground."

Her voice broke and she almost choked a bit. "I'm sorry, I…"

Xanthia said, "Let me ask you something reporter. How did you turn into a flaming rainbow of journalistic prowess? Did you hate men or something…because as I understand it you weren't always a fruitcake, right?"

"I don't hate men. The only man I hated was my dad. He disowned me after the war and gave me this ignorant speech about my…life after I started dating this wonderful woman I met at the Air Force Academy. Shawna had lost her right eye in the war in Versua and we were always cool with each other. We had some pretty _wild_ nights," said Lillian while laughing.

She continued, "We broke up on pleasant terms though and we're still good friends. I love people passionately…and no matter what I shill about, my faith is in people. I love _everyone_ except my asshole father but…"

"Quiet. I think we're gonna take fire when we turn the corner." Charles cut us off.

"I'm just curious. If we do get shot at…are you going to blame Nesha for this…or me?" Lillian asked.

Charles was silent. Irrelevant of his sketchy and embellished stories, it was easy to forget that Charles Ellerbe was a pretty good soldier. His M-4X was equipped with a newer DVX-88 Day/Night Scope. No one could hide from his eyes, night or day.

I looked up at one of the buildings that hadn't been seriously damaged and probably saw the same thing he did. It was some kind of office building with large windows. Most of them had been shot out and there were signs of RPG and grenade launcher fire along the area. But for the most part, it was intact. Charles and I extended our heads to look at one window that was whole. It was the fourth floor and the farthest from the right. Then, I saw the building was part of a larger series of buildings. When I did, I saw something else: that same window pane shattered and tracers came out.

"Contact Front!" Charles shouted.

That kicked off a ton of fire. I floored it as everyone began firing at the windows and doors. Charles was targeting each insurgent in the alleyways with precision fire. Meanwhile, bullets were skipping right in front of me. We were rather inexperienced, but as far as I knew, no one was firing down our axis. Zanne blazed away on our M249X SAW, an upgrade to the previous model… but accidental discharges were still a problem. Jason was blasting away on the fifty caliber gun, which had been improved slightly over time. It didn't jam as much as it did in the past. I wanted to shoot at something, anything…but I couldn't exactly put the Humvee into cruise and blast away with my M4X. Lillian was a little calmer than I thought she'd be, but she still jumped when an errant round cracked near her. We continued up the street as fast as we could to make the turn into the main drag of MSR Angel Land. The building in front was still spitting lead at us, but there was little we could do. Brown, behind us, fired a Mark-29 Grenade Launcher, but the building was too big to be brought down by a M-29, an upgrade from original Mark-19.

At first, I didn't realize how terrible this situation was for us. We didn't have Recon's equipment, yes. That was obvious…but we were ill-equipped to deal with an ambush like this. We had mostly trucks on a narrow uneven road, and no air. When the RPGs flew, that was when the situation sunk in. One of the rounds impacted a few meters from us.

"Left, Tasha! Left!" Charles said, announcing where the turn would be. We had no choice but to turn into the main street…right next to the office building. As everyone blazed away, another RPG round flew right for us.

"Look out!" Jason said.

Like a machine...or a fighter pilot would, I took a lesson from my parents. I made an evasive turn to the left and the round exploded in one of the abandoned buildings next to us. By now Lillian was hunkered down a bit as survival became the number one goal.

"Go...go, go, go, go, go!" Charles kept yelling as I made the turn onto MSR Angel Land.

Then I turned my head for a mere moment and ducked down as I thought another RPG round was on the way. But a bullet screamed through the window...where my head _was_! The bullet shattered one of our boxes we had cramped in the back...splitting Xanthia and Lillian's heads.

"Whoa! That was close!" I shouted.

"Keep going! Drive us out the kill zone!" Xanthia shouted. Obviously, she wasn't concerned about how close she came to her head being taken off. Now Lillian, on the other hand...she was in full panic mode.

I started laughing. The near death experience…was rather comical at this point. I wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline or something making me insane. It sure happened to Jason as he was having a little too much fun.

"You want some…oh, you want some too?" he kept chanting.

"All X-Ray Victors, increase speed and dispersion!" said the Captain.

The battles went on for a few more minutes as the fire tapered off. I knew Recon didn't go this way. Our moronic commanders told me the wrong darn turn and put us into this situation. Recon went a different way…the RIGHT way. I had to drive the convoy through Ambush Alley. Then, as we crawled out of the kill zone, I began to wonder how anyone lived here. After a few tense minutes, I found the highway and made the turn onto U74. And just as quickly as it began…it was done.

We were home free. We sat there in silence as we passed the ruined walls of the hostile Kazar. I started laughing, but it seemed automatic. My soul had taken over my mind and I was laughing independant of my sensible mind.

"We're clear! We got Recon on our left heading off the highway. We're halting there." Charles said.

I finally took control over my senses. I kept breathing just to see if I was really alive. I took one hand off the wheel just to touch my skin and check my pulse. After that, everyone joined in the laughter.

"Wow…we got lit up." I said.

"I guess you were right. You guys did get to pop your cherries." Lillian was whistling and shaking her head with a huge smile when she said that.

Jason said, banging on top of the humvee, "Hell yeah! So, reporter…how did it feel to get shot at by a legit target this time?"

Lillian had a huge smile on her face, "Pretty good for once."

I was in a state of euphoria. I couldn't believe I was still alive. Our orders were to push past Recon's position and hold. We exited the city via the U74, which was clogged with debris, but as far as I was concerned…it was a golden road of hope. As we came down into the valley, we saw several LARAs parked at a herringbone some 500 meters from us. I could tell it was Werewolf. If anything, they'd received the worst of the fire through their slog in Kazar.

We pulled up right in front of Werewolf Company. Our infectious joy had spread to the entire company. Everyone was whooping and hollering…even the officers. To be honest, none of us expected to get lit up this early in the war. It was clear that Werewolf did not share our enthusiasm. We were yelling, hopping out the vehicles and slapping hands while we yelled get some!

Recon was simply going about their jobs, refueling, setting new tires, reloading and brass checking weapons. I saw Chapman eating some MRE pound cake, Walt and Rico were tossing shell casings from the vehicle. I blew Rico a kiss and he simply smirked at me. And Brandon? He was just sitting there in a listless, half-conscious state.

"Hey, Brandon! Rico! I'm a combat veteran now. I'm Action Girl baby, woo!" I said, pontificating about.

"Whatever." He just didn't care.

"Come on! We got lit up, dude! We're in the thick of it now." Charles shouted, right in Rico's face.

"Charles, shut up!" Rico yelled back. Everyone froze. "I got news for you. None of that meant a damn thing! The whole thing was a maneuver. 1st Marines are already on the outskirts of Severja. The whole thing was a feint to draw all the Dogmen to Kazar. We let them have the city!"

"What?" Jason said, "You mean to tell me, we spent nearly seven hours waiting and twenty getting shot at…for nothing?"

"Yep. We're an elite unit and all we got was a crap mission." Chapman said.

"Sorry, Calamity Jane. It was more like a shootout at the B.S. Corral." Brandon said, coolly.

Then three Recon guys walked over. One of them was a baby faced NCO and a private. Walter came out from the LARA.

"Geez, is this your sister, Brandon? And Rico's dating her? _Wow_. Tasha looks like a cancer patient who got hit in face with a shovel." The private started laughing.

"What was Rico thinking? I've seen twelve year olds that look better than her."

"You POGs think you're hard 'cause you got shot at one time. Give me a break!" Walter said, walking past us pointing his middle finger at us. "We're number one! Recon for life, baby!"

"Rear echelon yellow bellies, get the hell on somewhere." Hoot added.

Some of the Recon guys walked off. Brandon just sat there, confused and apathetic. Rico was more shocked than he was angry.

I was frozen. My entire ego and all my bravery…died. It was built up in a twenty minute firefight and it was deflated in a few seconds. Then, anger filled my soul like it was a molten liquid being poured into the vat. I was furious at everything now: Rico (For his secrets), Brandon (for not being more vocal and standing up for us), my superiors (for being freaking retards), my platoon mates (for embarrassing me with their displays of joy), and myself…for being stupid enough to think I could walk up to combat hardened, elite soldiers and boast about one firefight.

I hated the enemy we were fighting and this damn war all together. I looked at the men in my life…and I said nothing. I walked away and got back in the Humvee. Lillian tried to console me, even though she hadn't left…she heard the verbal evisceration Power Recon gave us. And besides, we'd been given the order to move out anyway. We had to go north and help the 1st Marines. I walked slowly to the Humvee, opened the door and sat down like a petulant child. Everyone else followed, their feelings shredded by elite Recon soldiers; they, while we walked away, were still going about their jobs...as if we weren't even there.

I stared at the bullet hole in the glass right in front of my eyes. For whatever reason, I started to sing. It was my favorite song by the Ellen Coates Band_…Teenaged Wasteland._

"I stay in my room with the music blaring…forget the world, I just stopped caring…"

Slowly, the others started to join in. Even Xanthia did…because we'd sung this song before.

"My boy drives and old, old pickup baby, mixing cocaine and vodka maybe…we are the ones who refused to obey, we are the ones who waste nights away…"

Finally, Lillian added her less than soprano voice.

"Sex and punk rock are our crimes, my parents don't know the times and they don't give a damn about me…'Cause I'm from the Teenaged Wasteland baby, we're all dying from hard drugs maybe…'Cause I'm from the Teenaged Wasteland baby, Our story is a style of crazy…"

Lillian would probably embellish it, but the truth was this: We really were just POGs, people other than grunts. We'd be in the rear trucking supplies while Brandon and his boys were fighting up north…in a place the Yukes called The Dead City. It was the very place where the Seelow Rot started…according to some. But I wondered what horrors were really in that city? I knew this: Brandon and Rico were going to find out real quick.

I just kept staring at the hole in the glass.

Next Chapter: The City of Sinners


	11. The City of Sinners

Chapter 11: The City of Sinners

**September 2, 2037**

**Outskirts of Severja, Yuktobania (Middle Gublina Region)**

**0430 hrs**

In the distance, all I heard were the sounds of Severja dying. Gun battles raged through the city. Explosions from scatter-based artillery and that new stuff, the guided artillery rounds G1 nearly schwacked us with back in the Bayori, were pounding the city's northern points. 1st Marines were battling through the city's streets and alleyways, finding resistance to be much more than they expected. 3rd ID, the thieves of the Army, was fighting to our western flank. The entire city was a kaleidoscope of destruction and mayhem; the entire spectrum had the colors of death. We sat only two miles away and saw it all unfold…while we sat on our hands in reserve.

We were on one quarter watch, but I couldn't sleep at the moment. I was too busy conversing with my parents over Queue. We weren't supposed to be using them in a combat area anymore, but I found a way to hack around it.

To her credit, my mom didn't mention H Corp at all. We talked about my little sister's letter and how everyone made fun of it. I understood all the arrogant posturing though. My mother didn't comprehend the criticism because she'd never lived in the highly charged, satirical environment that was Recon Division. Everyone had the desire to go into Severja to mess the place up, kill the enemy, rape and pillage their houses without mercy. And I smartly did not mention this to my parents.

Then we talked about Lucy. Fortunately, Lucy was safe and sound back in Pikes Hugo. Unfortunately, she was still rather…malnourished as a result of all this hellish stress and life in the vaunted wasteland. My dad asked me what would possess anyone to do this. But as far as we knew, no one had a definite answer about the virus. It was man-made, but new theories were being thrown around and everything Alphonso told me wasn't quite the truth anymore.

My father picked her up in the Sand Island region and took her to a hospital, but there was nothing they could do. Apparently, tongue replacement wasn't their specialty. A day later, he took her to a diner he frequented with his long dead compatriot Alvin C. Davenport. It was an old mom and pop joint known as Marion's at the corner of 34th and Fander Street in Sand Island. They were one of the few regular people who knew my parent's secret. I knew that because they always ate for free, and susquently, I did when I took Dulcinea there many months ago. By the time my dad returned with Lucy, the oldest son had taken over the restaurant. He ordered this pair of cinnamon pancake dishes and the special Cardiac Special, which was sausage wrapped in bacon and steak. Not exactly a healthy dish and my mother gave him hell for it. Lucy ate her meal in less than _three minutes_. It was shocking…she usually took her sweet time eating. She simply smiled and nearly ate off my dad's plate.

Then one more disturbing note. My dad talked about several break ins around Pikes Hugo. I was shocked when I heard the Miller family had been robbed. Mr. Miller, the mayor's brother and my favorite high school teacher, had been stabbed in a home invasion...but he was alive at least.

I heard the sounds of blades in the air as I looked back at Micho for a second.

"It's not good. Cas-evacs have been going back and forth for awhile." Micho said, interrupting my thoughts. "This has got to piss Captain Morrison off. Letting the straight leg grunts do the job that was supposed to be our task."

I looked up and saw several helicopters flying above. Micho didn't speak as much as the other guys, but lately, he'd been rather talkative. I also noticed Walt may have been right about Micho. He'd been spending a little more time with Suzie. I didn't mind them having any…camaraderie, but we were on the front hood of the LARA, not even on the guns. Micho was lying back on the window with Suzie asleep on his shoulder. That was…danger close, for want of a better term.

"You're worried about the Captain? I don't think he even cares, to be honest. Now me...I'm ticked off that we didn't go in first." I heard a voice say.

Walt, Chapman, and Alphonso had walked up to us. Suzie was drooling all over Micho's shoulder and despite how…wrong it seemed, I couldn't resist the urge to laugh.

"We don't have to be the reason we win the war. We just can't be the reason we lose the war." Alphonso added.

I shrugged it off. Lucy hadn't spoken a word to my parents about what happened. Bohr gave me the skinny the previous day. Lucy had no recollection of how she ended up in the Soma's hands. There was no telling what kind of psychological damage she'd suffered at the hands of the Dogmen, or trying to survive in the wastes of Central Yuktobania.

Recollection or not, I told my parents that the Soma would pay dearly for this. No one said anything, but Lucy had become our motivation for taking out these Jaair Fundamentalist savages, Lucy…our own Helen of Troy.

My mother's response: _You want revenge, you better bring two shovels. You need one to dig your enemies' grave. You need the other to dig your own._

I never thought Kei Nagase would ever _intentionally_ make me think she was full of it. She couldn't _seriously_ tell me she didn't seek revenge at some point in her life? Then again, what if she _was_ right? Did she really almost die because of it? I didn't get a chance to ask her before…for whatever reason, Micho switched gears.

"What was Dulcinea talking about that was so important?" he said.

Walt was quick to add, "You think you knocked her up?"

I was caught off guard when Dulcinea asked me that. My wonder was why Micho waited until then to ask. To be honest, I wasn't as worried about Dulcinea possibly being pregnant. I was used to the idea of a baby around the house. Astrid, the little monster she was, was more than enough experience for anyone. I knew Dulcinea wasn't worried about it since she brought it up one time. She said she always wanted to have a family of her own. I wasn't worried about it, but the whole timing was a bit unexpected. It was a strange position to be in. As far as I knew, however, Dulcinea wasn't carrying a baby and instead, she wanted to talk about something more…permanent.

"Well, that was a possibility. But then again, she may have wanted to discuss our…future."

"You're not…serious, right?" Micho said. He sniffed it out like a Doberman, even before I started my second sentence.

"You never know." I said.

"You're _seriously_ thinking about marrying this chick?" Walt asked. He was slower to pick up on it, but he knew as well.

"It's been almost a year since we've dated. I wasn't thinking about it, but she did bring it up a couple of days before we stepped off in St. Hewlett." I said.

Alphonso then added, "Tasha and your parents must have thought you were crazy."

I never liked to keep secrets from people. Well, certain ones; I didn't want my sister to know that fact about me and Dulcinea. I figured it was just deserts for not telling me about her and Rico's relationship. Now, however, things were a bit different. I was learning things about Rico…that I wished my sister knew. And it wasn't all good.

"Well, my parents were a little surprised by her words. Of course, for Tasha…it's hard to be crazy when she doesn't know at all."

"Forget all that crap…we gotta talk. That's the reason I came over here." Chapman said. We'd been wrapped up in our conversation about the womenfolk that we'd ignored Willie a few times. He had a serious look on his granite face, and that told me everything. So I at least decided to give him his undivided attention. Then Suzie started snoring behind me when there was a lull in the artillery barrage.

"What's up Big Willie?" I said.

"Did you hear about what's going on back home?" he asked. "Some guy from the Oured media leaked a story about Hephaestus Corporation absorbing Apex MC."

I was a little offended. This was Big Willie's big news…H Corp absorbing another underachieving company? What was the big deal? _Was I missing something_, I thought.

Micho asked, "The mining company, right?"

"Yeah. It came out a day before the merger was supposed to happen. Apex was one of the civilian companies that were supposed to help…_rebuild_ this country. They got a huge government contract just a week ago." He said.

Then it hit me. The pause and the skepticism in his voice gave Chapman away. He sounded just like my mom. He was another hardcore liberal blasting Corporate Osea for no reason at all. Now, my mother had her reasons and Cylaron did deserve some criticism, but it seemed childish. Corporate Osea made our UWS work. They built the damn things!

Alphonso asked, "Wasn't Apex the one that got into that anti-trust scandal with Cylaron back in Versua in 2021?"

A piece of the puzzle was found. It was about illegal business. But that couldn't be. After all, it was impossible to run a hundred percent clean business. In order to make money, rules had to be skirted and dirty things had to happen. The only problem was when it became egregious and people started losing their life savings and their jobs because of illegal business. But as far as I knew, Cylaron didn't do anything wrong in Versua. They did bring a ton of jobs to that ruined country and helped stabilize Southern Versua, something no one had been able to do in over _seven hundred years_.

"Oh yeah…there's a lot of old wounds from the Democrats. Now you've got huge corporations whoring out for government contracts to hide monopolies. They think they're so slick." Chapman said.

I scoffed, "I think I see why my mom was so pissed off at H Corp."

I wasn't sure if monopolizing was an _egregious_ thing. It did starve out competition. However, in my mind, at least what I learned from high school economics, was that big, popular enterprises starved out the incompetent businesses and those companies who are well run thrive because of the success and the availability of other, equally good brands. My economics teacher called it the _Big Bad Wolf Theory_.

"Brandon, your mom's not alone. It's getting _real_ ugly in Oured. They're protests, demonstrations, people are rioting in Apex plants closing…and you're not going to believe this. There's an anti-war sentiment growing. There's a conspiracy theory that President Shelley started the war illegally or something."

I stopped. All time seemed to freeze at that exact moment. I was caught with my mouth half open and the realization began to dawn on me as slow as a rising sun.

_Anti-war sentiment_. The three words no soldier ever wanted to hear. This was only going to get worse. It may have been a small issue at the moment, but I knew enough sociologically to know this: it was only going downhill from here. The classic case was the 2010 war. The anti-war sentiment started as a small piece of snow in both countries. But like gravity, it only had to be pushed and down it went. I knew Oseans were gullible for these things. One only needed to look at Hollywood. One thing happened to a big star and everyone followed it. The entire country developed a gang mentality and soon…everything fell like dominoes.

"That's insane." I said.

"That's what my mom tells me." Chapman said.

I began to second guess myself at this point. It wasn't that that Chapman was unreliable as a source, just the opposite was true. However, I wasn't going to trust something his mother said right off the bat. I knew enough about Chapman's mother that she was the last person anyone could rely on for accurate information. Her very job, a hair dresser at a beauty parlor, was the empirical proof of this.

"Dude, I don't trust your stories. You're just like Charles, embellishing facts and changing things around." I said. I sounded cocky and bullish when I said that. Lance Corporal Chapman wasn't buying it.

He replied, "Corporal…I'm dead serious. There's a reason Division had that media ban. Now it's getting out and all the officers are talking about it. They talked about confiscating our Queues."

I didn't have a complete picture, but it all began to make sense. Though, I wondered if Division knew _enough_ about this. They obviously didn't want the media over here or any type of news channel network affecting our morale. They lifted the ban; but that meant that they, and many others in Power Recon's brass, had every reason to think the war was no longer in doubt. Judging from the amount of resistance in Severja, that was obviously premature.

However, if I doubted it, Sergeant Adair _did_ buy into Chapman's story.

"Have you told anyone else?" he asked.

"No. Just you guys." Chapman said cooly.

Alphonso then immediately gathered the entire team, waking them up from their slumber. Planes roared above us. We met in the large tent we'd built for our meeting place. He quickly explained the situation and addressed the issue. Lieutenant MacGruber, who was to take over for Alphonso as team leader after we passed Severja was not present at the time. He was meeting with the Captain. I sort of scoffed the entire thing as one last ditch effort for Alphonso to take advantage of his Alpha status in the team. That wasn't to say that Adair was incapable, far from it. But I had a feeling he was rather bitter about giving up his leadership to MacGruber, who was a rookie soldier, he had the tools necessary to lead us. It wasn't because Alphonso was a bad leader; he was a good leader…but something told me he knew in his saved heart that perhaps MacGruber was a better leader at heart.

"Well, Willie…everyone…I don't want this to leave the tent. _Don't_ mention it to anyone else, you hear? Don't. Say. A. _Word._ Am I clear? We're not going to have rumors flying around and everyone taking sides for and against. It does no one any good." he said.

As he said that, Lieutenants Frost and MacGruber entered the tent. I turned my head when Frost came up to Alphonso.

"Sergeant Adair…we have a situation." said Frost.

"Lieutenant, sir...what's going on?" Alphonso asked, a bit sheepish. He was probably hiding his contempt for the Belkan officer under humor.

"We have new warning orders in thirty minutes. We're stepping off in sixty. Captain Morrison also informed me that there is a new Division order for the confiscation of all Queue 30s and all media outlets have been banned again, effective as of 2100 hrs Zulu time." said Frost.

Alphonso responded quicker than I could cognate my thought on the BS situation, "Okay, guys. You heard him. I guess we're going back to old fashioned letter writing. Whatever you have to do on the Queue, do it now. We're briefing in twenty five mikes, and we're Red Con One in fifty five."

Everyone began to scatter throughout the area. Some of us left the tent; as we did, Micho and I looked at each other and shared an angry look.

"This is some bullshit." We said in amazing unison.

***

**STILL in the Outskirts of Severja, Yuktobania (Middle Gublina Region)**

**0700 hrs**

The briefing was pushed back and most of us had nothing to do until then. Though, I wasn't sure who to blame in this case.

There were only two guarantees in the Corps. Rule One, whenever we were told to move out in twenty, it would take two hours. Rule Two was always the inverse of Rule One. Sometimes I believed that Command did these things on purpose. Sheck said there was a reason for everything. I wasn't sure I believed him. He was just saying the right things a leader should. I was still pissed about getting my Queue taken away because the top officers were affected by soft liberals back home fearing that things were out of control.

Funny thing was this: Tasha believed that officers had no excuse to make mistakes. Though her argument was inherently flawed, she did have a decent one. My twin sister argued that commissioned officers would have had far too much training than the regular enlisted person to do stupid things…most damning of all, getting enlisted guys killed. One idiot officer's decision just the previous day resulted the death of a pair of 82nd Airborne soldiers coming back from patrol. Now, I didn't think someone as dawdling as Lieutenant Finch or insufferable as Frost were going to get people killed. Finch was more…overmatched. Once I learned the truth about some of the officers at Annapolis, it became a little easier to accept. But again, I couldn't tell Tasha because Frost took away our bleeping Queues!

Lieutenant MacGruber openly discussed his time at Annapolis with us during chow hours prior. Apparently, he and Finch, as well as Dyer and Riba, were all at the academy at the same time. They were there during the change to the Shelley Administration. Finch was one of the new breed of officer, the beginning of what MacGruber called the "Prep School Officer" era where the hard working middle class couldn't crack the ranks of the officer schools. Even in college, there was no guarantee of making it to the OCS. The demand for quality officers was high during the advent of Power Recon and other new military organizations, but the qualifications were so strict that middle class people were frozen out. MacGruber derided this, claiming 'they', this new breed of officers were callous and over-educated_. _However, to Recon's credit, very few of them made Recon. They were shifted to other units…Finch was one of these men, and my sister, to her chagrin, knew how that turned out.

At the time, Chapman and I were pulling roving guard duty when we wandered over near Battalion HQ directly behind our lines. There was a lot of activity around. There were many civilians around the medical tents Battalion and Division had set up in the general area. It wasn't anything new…but it was unusual to see civilian aid stations that close to the front. The battles were still going on in the ruined city.

"What's going on?" Chapman asked.

I knew who to blame for the war of course. We saw our Corpsman, Doc Gray, attending a line of what looked to be preteen kids.

Gray wasn't always a talkative sort. He preferred to let his work do the talking for him. When he did speak, he made his words meaningful, if not concise. His voice was colloquial, a sensual folk and foreign influenced. That was because Gray, like Marco Desormeaux, came from Orleans District. Both Marco and Gray came from old, old _Sorle_ families. _Sorle _people were the descendants of the Sotoan immigrants who moved to Osea in the 1600s. But ironically, PFC Desormeaux was a city kid. Gray was the one who grew up in the bogs and backcountry. The true _Sorles _spoke with a tone of breathy, drawn out romanticism. I was convinced that Gray, even though he was married to this belle named fittingly Isabelle Areceaux LeBlanc-Gray, could get any woman to sleep with him with that voice. Of course, Walt thought he sounded like a homosexual, but I thought Walt _sounded _like a dumbass at times so it was an interesting trade off.

Doc Gray gave us a nod when we approached. He sometimes spoke quickly and sometimes you had to slow him down. Sometimes he spoke quietly and you had ask him to speak up. then there times he'd go off on these Alphonso-like soliloquies.

Gray treated the children who'd suffered light shrapnel wounds in the cross fighting between 1st Marines, Soma regulars, 3rd ID Soldiers, Dogmen and Paramilitary forces. There were twelve pre-adolescent Yukes in front of us on the porch of the main building. In the back of my mind, I wondered if any of them looked like Lucy. That was hard comings, as Hoot would say. The kids, for the most part, looked generic. But they were not the Yukes I knew. They were tan skinned…they were Jaair Yukes. Hazri. It was unusual to find them in this part of the country, but I deduced that they "immigrated" to this city.

They were the children of the Soma.

You could tell the difference without even looking at their skin. Their clothes gave them away. Regular Yukes wore cloth and polyester with one or many colors along with tennis shoes and ironic T-shirts. Girls could wear mini-skirts and tank tops with special bras to highlight their breasts; guys wore jerseys. They dressed like _us_. Their accents were different from ours but a girl like Dulcinea, who was Yuke, spoke perfect Osean. If you never knew her parents, no one could have assumed my girl was a Yuke from an initial meeting.

But the Hazri's fashion looked three centuries out of date. The old men wore brown and black robes. They dressed like monks. There was nothing unique about them. The six girls in front of me all had to wear these ridiculous headdresses called the Maracals, the fundamentalist head wraps and robes to cover them. Apparently, the Hazri were concerned that someone else viewing their wives or children's skin, even if it was a forearm, was a sin. If a woman took them off, she was either beaten, jailed, killed without legal recourse. And sadly, most women "sinners" _were_ killed. I'd heard stories about women being thrown into lakes with cement shoes, some were strangled, drowned, carved apart with knives, some were even stoned to death and in one tragic case Wash told me a story about his father, a soldier way back when, and some other Marines during Operation Desert Blitz in 2010...finding a woman nailed a cross in a Jilachi civilian hamlet near the front.

I looked at the children. _That story couldn't have applied to these kids_, I thought. I expected to get some joyish reactions from them. However, the boys gave us sullen, angry looks and refused to talk to us. The girls were shy…or just afraid to speak.

"Even the little ones don't like us." Chapman said.

"I'm not surprised. The adults told the kids not to speak." Doc said simply. "It's ridiculous, really. Even when they're losing they won't abandon their ways."

I couldn't be angry at the kids even though their parents supported, fought in, or helped start this inhumane struggle. Here they were being treated on _my_ parents' tax dollar and they give us the silent treatment. But they _were_ kids. They only knew what _their_ parents had taught them.

However, two of the kids stuck out from the rest. It seemed proper that they were on the end of the row. There were two girls. Unlike the other kids, they seemed a bit…upbeat. They smiled at us. Unlike their counterparts, they had green eyes and freckles. Their skin wasn't as tan and both had those retarded shawls on. It made me furious because I could tell my mission was no longer to avenge Lucy or anyone else and kill the Soma. I was here to liberate their people from this idiotic, dogmatic life.

The girl on the right said we looked cool in her broken Osean. I didn't pay attention to the boy sitting next to her and his offended expression. The girl on the left looked shy and didn't want to acknowledge us, but I saw her smile. They were sisters, I could tell. I'd lived with entirely too many women to know that. The right one was the outgoing one. She encouraged her sister to speak up. Chapman and I were beaming. We looked at each other and got the same idea. I pointed to that dumb headdress.

"Take it off." I said in Yuke. I started to pantomime what I spoke of, and they picked up on it rather quick. "Don't be afraid. You're free now."

The right hand girl didn't hesitate. She flung the headdress off, got up and stomped on the fabric. She cursed the thing. She held her hand out and I brought my right and slapped hands with her lightly. She knew. I saw her hair, fire red with spider silk tips. It looked disturbingly like Nesha Southerland's weird haircut. Then, like her sister…the other girl took hers off as well, although slower. Then, she went nuts. She flung it into the muddy pool of water near us.

The shy girl had the exact same hair as her sister. They were twins!

In an instant, her body language changed. It was as if the girls' head shawls were prison chains. Her angry Yuke voice screamed about how much she hated her father and her brothers for treating her like crap. She said she hated that thing since she was a kid. She hated her father for having her mother _killed_ because she tried to leave the country with them.

These girls…

That was why they were in the wastes. They wanted to be free. Their mother wanted them to be free and she died to make sure that happened. But they couldn't be truly free…until _we _showed up. There were no more conspiracy theories for me. Now I knew we were fighting a legit war.

"It looks like these girls don't buy into this Soma crap!" Chapman said triumphant. We slapped hands.

In a case of follow the leader, the other girls in the line started to do the same thing. And that was when things took a turn. The boys in the line had held their tongues and the adults in the area had as well. But I saw the looks of shock and worry on their faces…at least the men. The women were standing up and shouting at their significant others or their friends. They too started to remove their moronic, unnecessary clothing. They had no reason to be afraid anymore!

"Damn, bro! You've started a cultural revolution, brother!" Abernathy yelled out from across the ditch.

The men snapped in the blink of an eye. Huge fights broke out. Two boys got involved when we went after the pair of red-haired girls. I pushed them behind me and got in their way, but they still charged at me. Chapman unwisely put his hand on the stock of his X-88 rifle, which was Red Con One. But it stopped them.

It did not stop the third and fourth boy from going to town on one of the girls. Doc tried to intervene but was bum rushed by a pair of teenage boys. Two adult males ran for me, throwing rocks my way.

"Ozandi! Ozandi!" The men yelled at me. "Brsis Ozandi! Osa Ozandi! Maricon!"

Infidel, they called me. Sinner. Godless sinner. Osean sinner. Criminal. Devil. It was whatever synonym a person wanted to use.

I didn't hesitate. I pointed my gun at them. That stopped the men like a wall. MPs arrived to break up the situation. Some of the men ran and some were restrained by the MPs. But it was not a perfect ending. By the time the scene had cleared, one of the girls…and one of the boys, cried over the bloody heap of one of the girls. I walked over and looked her shattered form. Her left eye and her nose were bashed in. She was bleeding from every opening on her face. To her left was a bloody rock. I touched her neck; the skin of a tan skinned raven haired girl. There was no pulse.

She was dead.

The killer? A fifteen year old kid. He was restrained by flex cable.

"Ozandi! Mais forasn dasu!" he spat at me. "Garote masir, maricon!"

He basically called my mother a godless bitch, a whore who deserved to have her throat slit in an alley…and that was being _kind_, from the general translation.

"You heartless piece of shit!" I shouted at him. I wanted to kill him. I wondered if he was a Soma regular hidden among the civvies. He certainly had a military haircut. Chapman and Abernathy wisely held me back.

"Come on, man. Let him go. Forget it." Abernathy said, dragging me away.

"Garmu! Merkava lana-mara ku, maricon! Sensu arelen, maku dasu!" the right side twin girl angrily replied to the detained teenager.

"What the heck she's sayin'?" Chapman said.

"The boys are just jealous." Abernathy said, saving my translation duty, "She was talking about the Soma and their dream to make Yuktobania their own land. She says their days are done. Smart kid." Abernathy said.

With that action, I knew why. The girl told me everything I needed to know. The Soma taught their youth from an early age to hate Osea. They were turning Yuktobania into a wasteland desert…like Jilachi, their Holy Land.

As we walked away, I was waylaid by Lt. Commander Bohr. She was with her boss Commander Decker, I thought his name was.

She approached me and lifted the visor on her helmet. I could see a few scratches on her face and I saw a wrinkle or two on her obtuse forehead. "I heard the news about Lucy. Thank god that child's safe."

"Yeah." I could only say. Bohr let out a tired sigh looked over the scene and shook her head.

"God…what happened here?" she said. I knew Bohr and she often asked obvious questions not to find out the obvious answer, but to ask a deeper, more philosophical question. I could tell from the tone of her voice.

"Don't ask, Commander." I said.

I just walked away.

***

**0715 hrs**

"What we got?" Teller asked. We arrived just as everyone was starting to brief. Alphonso and MacGruber had the map sheets out on the 09 LARA's hood.

"We have a very special mission. 1st Marines are tied down in Severja and from what I've heard about the inside of that place…I don't even think we'd want to be there. Be that as it may, we're going anyway. The entire regiment is protecting the Northern flank. Our Battalion has been assigned an area near an ancient railroad town known as Mujae, which is really just a suburb of the city. It's about thirty five klicks north of our position. The reason we're going is because a Dogmen infantry division…is unaccounted for. It's just a big hole in their line." Alphonso said.

"This has got ambush written all over it." Walt said.

"Of course. That's why we're going to set up positions just north of the town and hunt for Dogmen and paramilitaries operating in the area. Those psychos have been putting a real hurting on our fellows in First Marines. We're going to intimidate the Dogmen." Lieutenant MacGruber added.

"What about their commander…this Apache Woman?" Micho asked.

"It's rumored that she's operating in the area. But our goal is not to capture her, not yet. Division's looking for the bigger fish. The ones believed to be behind the Seelow Rot plague." Alphonso added. "Speaking of which, there are changes in Division orders. We are no longer to remove our facial shields or helmets. We're to assume MOPP posture at all times. And Wash, Adrian…Chapman, I'm sorry but we can no longer eat or drink from the wildlife. Assuming, of course, the virus left anything to hunt."

The trio groaned as the LT continued, "We know the virus is man-made and most of the damage has been done around here. I'm warning you guys…better pack a strong stomach because it ain't pretty in Severja. There's a reason they call it _the dead city."_

Alphonso pointed to the map, "There are seven main roads. MSR Kramer that runs perpendicular to U74 and it goes through the middle of Severja. That's the magic line. No Osean units gone past it. We'll be the furthest unit in the entire AO. There's this road, an unnamed route codename MSR George that runs parallel to Mujae. Then there's MSR Jerry and MSR Elaine, intersecting roads in the lower valley just north of the suburb. That's where we'll be. Captain says we can be as loose with the ROE as we want since the entire map sheet is hostile."

"Are we setting up on the ridge?" Wash asked.

"That's right. To our immediate left will be Griffin Company, 2nd Battalion. They'll have the tank destroyers mounted on their LARAs to engage any and all enemy armor. Get it? Got it? Good. Let's get em." Alphonso concluded.

We broke and prepared to step off. Micho and I were heading left, when Chapman came up to me.

"Corporal, you got a minute?" Chapman said. He pulled me aside.

"Before that fracas at the Battalion station, I was listening to you talk about Dulcinea. I wanted to tell you Rico's been acting real weird since we left BP. But I almost forgot about it."

I was mad, not necessarily that Willie waited so long, but as I saw Rico pass by us, I didn't want to open up wounds. "He's still in love with her! Can you believe that shit? He told me right to my face in Kazar, just before and after we took out those RPG teams."

"How many years was it…three?" Chapman said, staring off into space.

I froze. "What do you mean?"

Chapman added. "They don't remember me, but I went to St. Julia's Parish in November City, just a few streets from St. Julliard's. I remember Rico, used to live across the street from me. I didn't know him that well, but this…thing he's having with Dulcinea, it's not good."

"You think?" I said. I didn't want to think about this at the moment.

"I'm not trying to be glib, but you better get this situation squared away ASAP. Because Rico's behavior is shockingly similar to the way my dad acted after my mom left him. This…has got bad news written all over it. Writing love letters, getting snappy with everyone…he's got stalker written all over him."

I was not sure what to think. I knew better than to take most people's stories at face value. However, Chapman was not really like Charles. I couldn't fully doubt him, even though I wanted to, "I never thought of it that way. He wouldn't have seen her in awhile but…"

Chapman looked distraught, "I met him before he came here. He's a real bastard. There's this story that he was doing this girl that got drugged by this stuff called G…a date rape drug. I trust Rico as far as I can throw him."

"Hey! You two stop messing around, we're Oscar Mike! We got a mission!" Rico shouted at us.

I was not sure if Rico heard that. He probably didn't, but I was unsure what to think. I was hearing more and more stories about Rico. Then I thought, if I'm getting these stories...how many is Tasha getting? Who was the real Rico Lazarus? I walked over to our vehicle and MacGruber was very upbeat about the mission.

"This takes me back to my football days, playing for the Academy. There's nothing quite like the bright lights." MacGruber said, getting into the LARA.

"Well said, sir." I said. I just shook my head.

***

**0755 hrs**

It seemed strange we weren't going into the city, but the chance to hunt Dogmen was an appealing concept. MSR Elaine was nothing but a wide, broken freeway not unlike the U80 during the near disaster at St. Marie du Maurine or the U74 we used to get into Severja. The only difference was that this highway had no official name. It was actually a highway that was under construction. Suzie told me that Severja's city council bragged about it, even though it would completely bypass their town. She found it embarrassing. It was interesting how I'd forgotten that this was where Suzie lived and the fact she knew Dulcinea at one point. Suzie had, for the most part, slowed down her drug abuse by going cold turkey on the speed meth. Now she was sucking down cigarettes, a slower death than my fear of having to bag her up because her heart exploded. It was interesting that Suzie was riding with us. She, Tatiana and Seto become a back-burner item, as Hoot would say. Their division HQ in the Sonza was struck by Soma aircraft and had no further contact with their command. Thus, they had nowhere to go. The Captain agreed to let them stay, as long as they didn't bring their…recreational drugs. Apparently amphetamines, sixteen year old minds, and Ak-47s were not a good combination. Suzie begged the LT to let her ride with us and Chapman agreed to swap with Martin because Desormeaux wanted to ride with Tatiana, and Micho…and well…it was like a high school drama session.

As much as many of us hated to admit it, the _Les Enfants Oublies_ were a part of our lives now.

In the distance, Suzie reacted to the blasts as we moved into enemy territory. It was here where I felt truly alone even among allies, friends, and tank killers from Griffin.

We discussed the Samizat tanks during the drive. We'd found out the Samizats were not cutting edge after all. It seemed the Yukes had them before the wars of the last twenty seven years. The company that made them went under and abandoned them. Apparently, the Yuke Loyalists who defected to the Soma made an interesting use of these behemoths. Another truth that wasn't as amazing as we thought. But we were only twenty klicks to our objective and the massive city was still in our sights.

"Whoa, 1st Marines are getting some in there." Walt said, noticing the distant chaos.

"Dude, check that out." Rico said.

We then passed along a series of destroyed buildings, but not recently demolished ones. All along the side of the road, there were just bones. Burned skeletons in charred cars, a bone here and there, but I didn't see any dead children. I tried to push everything out of my mind. But I couldn't help but think about those two supergiant star-color haired girls.

"Holy god. What happened in this town?" Micho asked.

"The Soma happened, that's what." Suzie said. I saw Suzie put his hand on his shoulder and I just turned away, leaving that to the future.

"Damn, that's messed up. You buy that rumor about the virus…how the Soma were testing it out on the civilians?" said Micho.

"It wouldn't surprise me. All this started before the Soma attacked." Suzie said.

The explosions and action in the distance increased. We saw planes fly overhead. No one was on the TADs and I didn't worry about it. I hoped we didn't need the air support.

Micho said, "Wow, those guys in 1st Marines were putting down hate and vengeance on the Soma."

Micho wasn't usually that talkative. I guessed the Suze was the reason. "This isn't Soma's wreckage. It's from Loyalist army, from when the Soma blitzed the place. There's no telling what it's like deeper in the city."

"Strange…since I'm seeing a lot more civilian vehicles than military. Bastards."

"Look alert. No friendly units have been where we're going." Alphonso reminded us.

"This is Juliet 1 to all Victors, we've got enemy armor heading from the ridge near MSR Elaine!"

And then, there was an explosion right in front of us. It was about fifty meters out, but it was the same scattering blasts I saw on Highway U80. The blast of scattering fire and death and from each one of them there were smaller bursts destroying the road right in front of us. We all cursed but before we could react any more…

"All Werewolf Victors, break off the attack! I repeat, break off the attack!" Captain Morrison.

I looked to my left, abandoning my sector and watching for the enemy tanks. I couldn't see anything from my limited vantage point. I wanted to make absolute identification on the Samizats. A part of me wanted to see them up close and personal. We knew enough about them, but what were they really like? We knew the LARAs inside and out. But who really created those monsters? Who built them? Where they really as advanced as an Abrams? I had the time to think about all these things…as I didn't have anything to shoot at. Hoot drove into the dry basin and we nearly fell out of our seats when he hit the sharp decline. We were pelted with tank fire as we tried to get the entire convoy turned around.

"Well, I think the missing Dogmen are accounted for now!" said Alphonso.

"Well, no shit!" Hoot shouted back.

We didn't have a lot of practice with an enveloping maneuver, but in this case the only thing we had to do was get the hell out of there. I wasn't afraid though, I was angry. I'd have to wait for my revenge.

"All units, retreat down MSR Jerry to Grid 92, Point XCV821 and hold. We're falling back and dropping artillery." Captain Morrison said.

"Forget that! We're getting run out like bitches. This is embarrassing!" Walt said.

"To hell with this retreating shit." Rico agreed.

"Oh yeah, like we're any match for those Samizat monsters. You keep living in Bizarro World, Rico."

"Maybe this war is bigger than us." MacGruber said. The LT had certainly changed his tune.

"What do you mean?" Alphonso said.

"For some reason, I thought we were the center of this war. Maybe this isn't a war we're meant to fight." MacGruber added.

"We are the derivatives of the old school Recon Marines, though. We should get the tough missions. We're elite. But…seeing those tanks make me feel like we're just another cog in the machine. Maybe we're a big cog…but a cog nonetheless." Alphonso said.

"We're just pieces on the chessboard anyway. But at least we're the powerful ones. We're like the bishops or the knights. We're still in the game." Teller said.

"Forget that. There's that old saying. We can be the queen on the chess board, but we're still just game pieces." Suzie said.

I was shocked. I knew the Suze was a crazy person at times and did pills; as such, I never thought she was capable of such unique and elegant thoughts.

"That's…rather perceptive of you, Suze." I said.

"I don't know…it was just some shit I heard on TV a while back." Suze said, staring out the window.

I wasn't too angry at retreating then. I was confused. My brain just melted for a moment and I had to purge all the insane thoughts from my mind. Then I had to remember everything so I could make sense of it all. But when I did, all I ended up with was more questions. My life had become a never-ending rollercoaster ride. I was high and low, high, low and high…it was driving me crazy. My brain was stretching in a million different directions. Those twin red heads, this bizarre mondo tilt between Me, Tasha, Rico and Dulcinea, Micho and Suzie, my parents, Astrid, this war…the Soma.

My head was killing me. I couldn't breathe again.

***

**1500 hrs**

**Severja, Yuktobania (Lower East Side)**

There was a saying about Yuktobania. _If you'd seen one city, you'd seen them all. _Severja, according to many people, was the exception. But how could it be similar to every city anyway when months of destruction, deterioration and death had left this city flattened. It truly was a dead city. We'd pulled back to the area first secured by 1st Marines, the Lower East. Air pounded the ambushers at the ridge along MSR Elaine and 2/5's armor was pushed up to engage the survivors.

This part of town was secure, but the northern half of Severja was in doubt. While we were mired in the ambush earlier in the day, tons of paramilitary forces moved into Severja's northern areas. It was the perfect place to stage such a resistance. The streets were far too narrow for tanks and it was elevated, giving the Soma a height advantage. The poor section to the northeast was no easy task either. Rain earlier in the day had made the entire dried lake a quagmire.

When we entered the city proper, we found the true extent of the devastation. The Lower Region had been flattened and the downtown's scant few skyscrapers were gone. There were skeletons everywhere. Catholic churches had been burned to cinders, priests and nuns had been hanged in the streets and from light poles, and cemeteries were defiled. Bibles were burned in the streets along with icons, crucifixes and paintings of the Virgin Mother. The libraries had also been burned to the ground. Their books scattered to the four winds of the planet in fiery ash and blackened dust. Schools weren't even safe as they too were burned. Schoolteachers and their classes who were unfortunate to be caught in the chaos were executed. Statues of ancient heroes were torn down and destroyed.

Seelow Rot didn't destroy Severja. It was the flames of revenge. The Hazri came to avenge their ancient blood feud to the city and its inhabitants. But as I learned more, it was obvious that this was about more than simple revenge. The virus, the children in the camp, the men and their wives…the Soma wanted to turn Yuktobania into their land with their rules. No one was going to stand for that.

But there were signs of hope. In addition to the other MSRs, there was MSR Newman and MSR Susan that ran parallel to our position. We were in a low income residential area near MSR Susan. 1st Marines were fighting up MSR Bania and MSR Saccamano. It was fitting that we were on MSR Susan as Micho and I located Suze's place (_some shitty apartment on the sixth floor_, as she so eloquently put it) in the building next to our HQ. It actually survived most of the devastation, but given the fact she picked up her pill popping habits from her parents and the Soma having taken everything that wasn't nailed down…it wasn't worth much at all. At least she didn't have to deal with her _asshole landlord_, whom we found stuffed in the incinerator.

Suzie wasn't the girl we knew. She was unable to speak upon coming home. She walked around holding her head with her hands and she couldn't take the memory. Micho embraced her as she started sobbing again and she became the vulnerable girl we saw in the Bayori Wasteland, a time that seemed so long ago…when it had only been about ten days. Micho was holding her like he would Rachel, whom he hadn't talked about at all since he'd arrived in this country. I was a little offended at this after Suzie had left. We were off-TAC and just lazing around not expected to do anything against the enemy armor. The northern part of the city was not a game for the LARAs...mostly. There were simply too many narrow areas. Then again, none of us would have been surprised if someone up at Division or below decided to send us into that mess.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"I'm just being a consoling guy." Micho said simply.

I just shook my head. "Yeah, your wife's having your baby…and you're all lovey-dovey with freaking Suzie? Maybe you should have married someone your own age."

Micho pushed me. "No, dude…it's not like that. She just…she…she reminds me of Leera."

Then the memory slammed into my head. _Of course_, I thought. The blonde hair, the slight form and the tacky way she dressed…Suzie was the Yuktobanian carbon copy of Leera Alou, Micho's dead sister.

Micho turned away from me and looked into the only thing left in the apartment, a shattered mirror. How fitting he'd do that. That was the way I felt about my own soul. I'd forgotten how much he'd missed his big sister.

"She and I were like this," he said, crossing two of his fingers together, "even before we moved to Alaska. I was like the humble sidekick and she was the hero. When she died, I wanted to kill that guy who destroyed her car with his own…all while shitfaced on vodka. I really did. I took my father's gun one day when he wasn't home…and I stared at it for forty five minutes!"

Micho turned to me with an agonized face, "After I talked to my mother about it, she said she wanted to kill him too. But she then she says, even the thought is a sin. What gives us, people without any legal recourse, the right to kill other people that deserve to die? I would have been no better than he was, she said. I believed it then, but ever since I joined the Corps…things have changed, and you know what I think?"

He pulled out his sidearm, a regular 9mm USP pistol and pointed it at the mirror. Then he angrily put it away and yelled at me with outstretched arms.

"I think it's bullshit! I've killed just about every day I've been here. I've seen nothing but death here. I've seen it a lot of the Yukes' faces. They may be alive, but there's death all over them. And you know what…I see that driver's face in my enemies'. It's like I'm killing him dozens of times over. He sure deserves it. He's in prison getting free cable and a roof over his head on my parent's tax money. But Suzie brings my sister's spirit out in me. She brought out the best in my heart. It's something Rachel can never do. She gave me back a missing piece of my heart." He said.

"While I don't doubt your sincerity…I just think it's ironic that you're still so angry about your sister dying, yet you drink more than anyone in this company. Your absurdities amuse me, Micho. And yet, we're in a land of absurdities…nothing makes sense anymore. And it's only been what…ten days?" I said. Then I slapped my head. _Why did I say that?_

But Micho wasn't angry at my valid, but stupidly placed comment, "I'm surprised you're so cynical. I'd be real worried about Tasha. It's strange how cynical she is about the right stuff…and yet naïve about the wrong stuff."

"Maybe. I just never thought of it that with you and Suzie." I said.

We walked out of the room and Micho shook his head and sat down on stairs heading up to the seventh floor. "Man, I love Rachel. I really do. Every night I'm worried sick about her, knowing she's doing the same. With this whole protest thing going on…I don't know what's going to happen. It just drives me insane sometimes…but I never talk about it. It gets channeled into this fury I have inside and I'm scared the rage is going to get me killed. It's just this crushing feeling I have."

I thought about what he said with the protests, and wondered about the future. "You sound like my mom way back when. She'd write about wanting to be near my dad a lot. The irony was just that…since she was always close to my father. She flew on his wing."

Micho then laughed as he came over to me and fished out my mother's diary from my smaller pack I carried on me at all times. "I still can't believe your mom let you read her diary from that war." He said.

"My mom's got some fascinating thoughts about everything. Listen to this stuff…she'll kill me if she finds out I read this to you but…"

I opened the book and turned to a random page. It ended up being toward the end, and a passage I didn't see the first time I thumbed through it.

_December 28, 2010: "…there are times I think about the future. And it's strange since he and I so clearly wish our future is by each other's side. With him, everything is an affirmation of true love. I can be myself around him. Every kiss, every time he holds me in the darkness of night deep within the bowels of this aircraft carrier, I am reminded of how blessed I really am and how there may be a God after all. The nights in the future hold much promise as I believe this will last in some shape or form when we're both old and gray. Because I know that David was put here just for me. Whenever we marry and make this love official, it comforts me. But it also comforts me to know that David believes I was put on this planet for him. As such, I have to be the same thing to him that he is to me. That way, in the future, whenever he protects me or when he's with our children, or finds himself close to me, or even inside me, I know that my mind, my body and my soul will be…no scratch that…is a place where he will always be loved and respected unconditionally. And the only thing that can separate us…is death._

"Wow…that's some heavy stuff. That's almost poetic-level love. I guess if all families were like that the Marines Corps' ranks wouldn't be as good." Micho said.

I was in disbelief at what I read. I could only think about my girl throughout my entire reading of my mother's love for my father. Unconditional. It was the same way…

"It's almost… hauntingly parallel to the way I feel about Dulcinea." I said.

Micho added, "You know, if my baby was a girl, Rachel wanted to name the kid Potenza, not so much because my mom…but because she thought it was a cool name?"

I laughed.

"It's getting real close though. Only about two and a half weeks. She asked me if I could get a leave if we're in the rear when our boy's born. I told her, hell no. I couldn't. Besides, I didn't tell her I wanted to stay over here." He said.

"You don't have any desire to see your first child born?" I asked.

Micho then got closer to me, "Look, my parents told me straight up that a guy being at his wife's side during childbirth is the most overrated thing since cruise ships; or in your case, Hollywood. There are just some horrifying things that go down when your wife's pushing out a kid. And most women won't admit it, but they don't want you there. You just get in the way. My dad learned that the hard way. When my mom had me, just told my dad to wait in the lobby and he _gladly_ did."

Then we heard the stomping of stairs and we looked down to see an angry Lieutenant Frost coming up the stairs. Both of us shook our heads.

"What the hell going on? Why aren't you two on TAC? We got Team meetings! We're still in a hostile city for god's sake. Let's go!" said Frost.

***

**1515 hrs**

Unlike Tasha, I never blamed the officers every time something went wrong. Sometimes their decisions were worth blame, but most of the time it was either mistakes by us, simple circumstance or just plain bad luck. Usually when an officer screwed up, we'd blame the S-2 or S-3 people; Frost and Moute for example. Most of the time, it was Frost. Frost drove me freaking nuts and still hadn't forgiven him for his act of blatant stupidity with Lucy days ago. I knew through the grapevine that his sucking up to Major Stanze, the intelligence officer on Colonel Holland's staff, in hopes of a long awaited promotion was driving the NCO's in the Battalion S-2 shop insane. But now, Frost was with us and managed to drag our asses to a Team meeting we were a nearly late for.

Alphonso began, "The Soma's armor is trying to flank us on both sides. CENTCOM's peeled off two armored battalions to deal with the threat. But that leave a big hole on this side of town. The northern half of Severja still remains in the hands of the Soma's regulars. However, we have reports of increasing paramilitary activity in the northeast, a region of town called Baquenta, the poor section. The streets are entirely too narrow for armor to go through. The bridge over the river has been destroyed…that's where we come in."

"We're still not going after the Apache Woman? This is a bummer, man." Rico said.

"Division believed that the majority of the enemy forces pulled out the night before we attacked, leaving behind paramilitary forces to defend the city. What we ran into a few hours ago was no doubt their counterattacking element. But it seems they jumped the gun and didn't wait until we'd secured the city." Alphonso said.

"That's only got to mean one thing, yo. Their command's all out of whack. They hatin' on each other." Abernathy added.

"Crudely put Adrian…but spot on." Alphonso said, unable to hold back a chuckle. "Our company will be clearing out this small little hamlet here on what used to be an island in the lake before Seelow Rot and the drought. We'll be taking the southeast corner."

"It sounds fishy, this little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. There's too much open ground…what gives? It's gotta be a catch."

"It is. G1 sent the order out while you two were hanging out in Suze's house." Alphonso said.

"Any other questions?"

I didn't even bother with the questions. It seemed like everything was being laid out for me. It was happening because I was smart enough to pick up on it first.

"Sweet. We get to be cops for a day. Kicking in doors, taking people out…this is the life." Rico said.

_What the hell was he so moto about?_

Rico and I still had unfinished business. What was this Chapman meant by screwing a girl pumped up full of date rape drugs? Was this true? If it was…that was just cruel and unusual. I'd heard rumors that Rico's high school days were filled with wild sex parties and some crazy, selfish behavior. But that was high school. We were all crazy back then. Even Micho was and he was not like that as we prepared to step off.

I remembered I initially felt Tasha and Rico wouldn't last as a couple. It just seemed a good hunch. Judging from what I was learning, it seemed my hunch was on the money. Though again, I could have been wrong. There was a part of me that hoped I was wrong. I didn't want my sister to be unhappy. I wanted her to enjoy her life and be happy with the man she loved. But I knew better than to just allow her to be happy to her detriment. We had some shitty town called Baquenta to run through. The truth waited.

Then again, maybe the truth was already there. He was still in love with my girlfriend.

***

**1535 hrs**

**Outskirts of Baquenta**

All it took a simple drive up MSR Newman, then a simple turn at 968th and MSR Art Vandelay. Then we'd cross the river bed and we'd be inside Baquenta proper. Suzie wasn't in the vehicle. Chapman was back in the vehicle. Teller was still driving, LT and Alphonso were still doing their thing and Micho and I were sharing probably the last ride in the LARA together before I moved to the Command Victor. There was just one major problem.

As soon as we hit the muddy wadi, the enemy opened up on us from the walls and windows of the labyrinthine adobe buildings of Baquenta. The Seelow Rot and the resulting drought had dried up the river near the area. It created a seven hundred meter ditch where the enemy could lay all kinds of mines, IEDs, and pre-targeted artillery and mortars. The second we hit the river bed, they opened up on us. That wasn't the problem. Rico returned fire with the turret gun as we dispersed into the assault pattern. The vehicles would maintain a constant speed of 50-60 KPH and spread out into a line. It was just as we'd practiced in Naval Assault training.

But one thing Naval Assault training didn't prepare us for…was unusual traps in the landing. We expected machine gun and mortar fire. In fact, Wash and Abernathy, along with elements of Team Two had stayed behind to provide sniper support to our units approaching Baquenta. They were taking out forward enemy observers.

Mortars weren't the problem. It was a gigantic hole in the ground covered with a tarp we didn't see until it was too late. We fell right into it. The only thing that saved us was Captain Morrison ordering a change in direction. We had to slow down and it saved our bacon. The hole was probably about seven or eight feet deep, but it didn't feel that way. The safety bags deployed and abruptly our multimillion dollar machine was a write off. Rico was knocked from the turret down and fell on top of Chapman. Walt went flying out the back and into the front, nearly taking out the LT. Micho and I were in an almost fetal position on the floor. It hurt like crap, but I didn't think about it too much.

"What the hell?!" MacGruber shouted.

"That sure has heck didn't show up on TAC!" Chapman said under a crumpled heap of equipment and bodies. We were lucky nothing went off. I picked myself off the floor and I was lucky I was still holding on to my rifle.

"Any one hurt?" Hoot asked.

"Just my pride, Sergeant." Walt said.

"This is Juliet 1 to Werewolf Alpha, we've fallen into some kind of…mud pit and we're unable to move any direction. We are dismounting and proceeding on foot, over." Alphonso said.

We all began to perform the quick exit maneuver, which wasn't that quick at all. Well, one could say it was easier said than done. We had to use the turret to get out. The only problem was adjusting the turret so it would open, then we had to get out, climb out the hole and get to the objective…while under enemy fire. I _had _to give the Soma credit for blowing up the bridge and drying the lake.

"Lima 1, this is Beta, roll over to Juliet's position and provide support by fire, over." Dickerson said.

"Roger that. We're Oscar Mike." Sheckenhousen said.

"Let's go!" Lieutenant MacGruber said.

I didn't notice that MacGruber actually had it bayonet out at first. But it didn't matter. We were out in the open, our rear ends exposed to everything the enemy could throw at us. We were about four hundred meters out from the area. Alphonso put his SEAL training to good use and leaped up over the hill, helping some of the other guys get out. Just as we exited the vehicle, the surrounding environment became a death trap. I could see vehicles from Raptor Company taking near miss artillery hits and some of the derelict ships sunken in the river bed as platforms for IEDs. We stayed behind Sheck's vehicle as we began to move into the area. I looked back as a mortar round hit our abandoned LARA right in the roof. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Keep going forward! Stay with Sheck's LARA!" shouted Alphonso.

It was slow goings so we decided to try an old fashioned maneuver, a dangerous one…but one that worked. We climbed on the sides of the LARA and rode it into town. As we did, a ton of artillery rounds hit the back end of the hamlet. It was obviously those newer rounds; we were, however, danger close within 600 meters. I was amazed because it was just one big fireball. I was concerned about civilian casualties, but the entire area had been declared hostile.

"They're shooting danger close fires! Watch it!" Alphonso shouted.

That fire obviously came from Lieutenant Riba and the sniper teams in the rear. We entered the town under…reduced fire. The streets weren't much different from the ones in Kazar. There was crap all in the streets, but it was just refuse and excrement. The insurgent forces did a good job with the prep work outside the city, but did a terrible job inside; all style, no substance. One good thing about the insurgents, they couldn't hit anything with their rifles. Dulcinea, on one leg and blindfolded could shoot better than these guys could.

We disembarked near our Team's objective and linked up with Cameron and his group. We had to clear the houses on the right side of the street along Route 4, the road closest to the outside of town. After clearing them, we had to investigate them for possible chemical weapons materials. Well, what was left of the hamlets anyway; Desormeaux's gun leveled a few of the hamlets as he continued up the street.

Most of the houses on our side of the road were destroyed and weren't capable of being searched. We moved down the street clearing each area without entering a single building. I saw two guys open up on us from the top floor on the left side. I targeted one and blew his head clean off. Someone got the other one, but I didn't know who.

Finally, we reached the house on the end of the row. We searched it, but nothing was inside except rubble.

Rico was extremely disappointed…at first.

We cleared our section and moved over to the next block to start the second search. We heard the sounds of fighter jets above, prosecuting targets further into the city. Alphonso reached the door of a three story apartment building…all by itself on the block. A white building that was strangely…untouched. Alphonso threw a flashbang grenade through the window and Teller kicked open the door. Right behind him was Rico, then Cameron, then me, then Micho, Walt, Chapman, the LT…

"Breaching, breaching!" Teller shouted.

We cleared each floor, but the only thing we found was a pair of dead insurgents near the windows. I returned to the first floor as we prepared to move out again. On the ground on the first floor, a color caught the corner of my eye. To the left of me, there was a slight discoloration in the ground. I wasn't sure if it meant anything since we had to move out, but my life experience taught me one thing: my eyes knew all. If it looked strange…it probably _was _out of order. I took a hasty step over to the kitchen area. The room was barren, obviously because the insurgents were using this as a temporary base…but _why_ would the kitchen be almost empty? The signs of a kitchen were there. Plugs and scratch marks where stove and the refrigerator were, the broken dishes and the flowery drapes and curtains. In the middle of the floor, there was the discoloration. It was brand new tile. Now I knew something was up!

"What is it?" Rico asked me.

I pointed my gun at the floor. "This tile…it's a different color than the rest of the floor."

I looked right and saw MacGruber and Alphonso arch their eyes. Alphonso got on the radio. "Juliet 1 to Werewolf Alpha, we've discovered a suspicious area in our location. We're searching the house, over."

"Roger, keep an eye out for any bomb making tools or possible chemical weapons." Morrison replied.

Wilcox, one of the demolition guys, came over with the Blast Scanner, which was actually called the CN-124 ODU (Ordinance Detection Unit) which sniffed out plastic explosives and other agents used in IEDs. They made life a lot easier.

"No explosives detected. Let's see what it does." Wilcox said. It was indeed new tile…and the damning evidence was a crowbar near where the freezer used to be. Rico picked it up and Wilcox got another from the 05 LARA and lifted it up. I thought we needed sledgehammers, but like clockwork, the tile was actually a panel of metal.

"Whoa!" Rico exclaimed.

Alphonso came over and we all looked down. It was a staircase.

"This is Juliet 1, we've uncovered some kind of hidden passageway in the house. We're going in."

"Roger, be cautious." The Captain responded.

Slowly, we all descended down the stairs into the darkness. I was the last person in so I knew it wasn't booby trapped. Once I got down to the bottom…we found ourselves in what appeared to be a laboratory! It was shockingly different than anything we'd seen in Yuktobania. The door was a heavy blast door you'd see in science fiction movies…but it was partially opened. We entered the white room and all we saw were white tubes the size of people. Wilcox, MacGruber and Teller searched to the far left. The room had black tile and there were computers everywhere. Some of those had screens where nothing but numbers and letters ran down them; a hexadecimal waterfall of sorts.

"What is this place?" Walt said. Teller emerged from the area he searched in a panic.

"Jesus Christ! They're bodies everywhere in there! They just shoved them into a meat locker!" Teller shouted.

I was pissed. My mind raced as I tried to come to grips with this reality.

_Did the Soma have any sense of humanity? Piling bodies into freezers?! Why were they really doing this? Was there some purpose to this? This lab had to serve some purpose. What are they trying to find out? What twisted science are they trying to uncover?_

"Whoa, dudes…check this out!" shouted Micho. We wandered over to Micho's position on the left side of the room. We saw a series of people inside the tubes. There were about six of them suspended in these tombs. At first, I thought they were more bodies stored for special study or they could have been alive; I wasn't sure. The tubes were filled with clear liquid that had a soda-like viscosity. They were all fully clothed and they all varied in age and type. One was a rather young blonde woman in what appeared to be some secretary's outfit. Again, I was not sure if she was alive or dead, but the woman had some type of breathing gear over her face and nose. I pushed my head towards the glass and tapped it lightly. The woman's blue eyes bulged open and banged the glass where my hand was. Bubbles were racing from underneath the breathing mask. She was alive.

"These people are still alive! Get Doc Gray up-up!" I shouted.

"How do we get them out?!" Micho shouted.

I looked down and found a pair of switches marked by Yuke words. The red one said _Ecsal_, which meant empty or expel. The green switch was _Fursi_, which meant initiate or start. The woman started pointing down to the red switch…so I flipped it. In a few seconds, the tube emptied and the glass slid up. The woman collapsed out of the tube, struggling to get the mask off. I got it off her face and she started choking and coughing on her own saliva. Micho and I got her off the floor and sat her down on the panel right in front of us.

"You're going to be alright, lady. Just calm down, we're here to help you." Micho said.

Rico then came over and looked at the woman, but she did not speak at all. She was shaking. Micho then saw something on her arm. Chapman started dragging out some of the bodies from the freezer as well. The woman had a marking on her arm. It was a number…a serial number.

_XC54567WZ-NO.943 _was printed on to her forearm.

Chapman said, disgusted, "Guys, look at this…they've been branded with serial numbers. Branded like freaking cattle."

"I wonder if those bodies we found at St. Maurine were branded too." I said.

Finally, the woman spoke. Her voice was clipped and breathless. "The devil woman…the devil woman…"

"What the hell is that?" I said.

By now, MacGruber was on one of the computers searching for anything of use. Walt and Alphonso were still searching the area as Doc Gray came up on line.

"They even got a truck dock back here!" Chapman added.

"We got a capture, here! A wounded enemy…looks like an officer." Walt shouted out from one of the rooms.

"Search him!" Teller added.

I walked over to his position and there was apparently a older man, probably mid fifties, with an unusual looking uniform. It wasn't Yuke, it wasn't Dogmen insignia. The man had been shot once in the shoulder and another in the stomach. Then Micho made a startling discovery from the light brown skin and unusually colored eyes. By now Dickerson had also arrived down in the basement lab. He asked for a sit rep and Alphonso told him everything.

"Lieutenant, this guy isn't a Yuke…he's a Versuan. A Versuan knows a Versuan, and this guy's a high class item." Micho said, his voice full of contempt.

"Found some ID…passport…" Walt said, looking through the man's pockets.

"What's it say?" Cameron asked.

"Name on the ID…Praeten Percival…what kind of stupid name is that?" Walt said.

Micho's eyes bulged. "Wait…holy shit! I know who this guy is! He's a criminal from the last war! Goddamn terrorist…son of a bitch! This guy built the goddamn Dispater cannon! My dad told me all about it."

And just like that, one odd piece of the puzzle came down low. I knew about the Dispater, of course and how much trouble it caused the Osean and Allied forces back before I was born. It was the Dispater cannon that killed Walt's dad, my dad's friend Hans Grimm, as well as countless Versuan civilians and ground soldiers. But this…was the man responsible? He looked listless…as if he didn't even care. One of the great war criminals of our times…right in our hands. That begged a bigger question.

Why was he here?

What role did he play in this war?

But the gunshot wounds weren't self-inflicted…so what happened here? The woman mentioned…_devil woman_. Abernathy smartly mentioned, in his BS hip hop tone, that the Soma command was in disarray. The Apache Woman was leading the army…a truck dock, a wounded foreign war criminal…a virus, a lab full of people being experimented on.

"You're kidding me!?" I said.

"I'm not making this up." Micho said, holding up his hands.

"What's going on?" Captain Morrison walked up. By now, most of the other civilians had been pulled from the chambers. One of whom was an older man…who kept looking at _me_ for some odd reason.

"Sir, we got civilians that were held in these space age tubes for some reason. They don't look wounded, but they're a little disoriented. We've also found at least fifteen civilian bodies in that freezer over there. No gunshot wounds…possible asphyxia or blunt trauma." Lieutenant MacGruber said.

Then, the old man spoke up. But when he did, he coughed when he talked, "The virus killed them. They tested it on all of us. The strong people, us, the ones who survived, were put into these tubes. They were going to transport us to the Hazri Highlands."

The man's voice sounded rough. His hair was a mixture of gray and brown. He had a thick form to him…and he looked oddly familiar. He still kept _looking_ at me.

"I wish that Kid was still around. He'd have stopped this stuff the day before yesterday." The old man said. "Hey you, You look kind of like him."

He spoke directly to me…and no one else. I walked over to him.

"Really?" I said.

The old man laughed, and then he coughed again. "Wait a minute. You look exactly like him…both of them! I'll be damned. I knew they were alive but I never thought I'd live to meet their kid."

Now this was getting really weird. "Wait…have we met before? You _do_ look…familiar."

"What the hell? Brandon…check this out!" shouted Micho. Micho had been checking one of the computers. "I think I've located your sister's whereabouts."

I dropped everything I was doing. My body locked up for a moment. Then I ran over to the computer screen. Micho had found a listing of all kinds of names in file folders on the computer's main screen.

"Whoa…they've been doing this shit for months! There's a six month backlog." Micho added. By now, Micho had attracted all kinds of attention. Dickerson took his place on the computer. He scanned down a list of names.

"They're all dead, just about." Dickerson said.

"Not…everyone." Micho said, pointing to my sister's name. I looked on the screen and sure enough…there was Sueltana's name! Next to her name was a status: _Alive_. Was there any better sign? But there was also a listing of location. There always had to be a catch.

_Dajul_…wherever the hell that place was.

"She's still alive! I can't believe it." I said. "But what's…Dajul? I've never heard of that place."

Alphonso added. "It's a city…on the outskirts of the Jilachi Desert, only one part of the Holy Land of the Hazri."

Dickerson added. "They've even got your niece…her status is: _inconclusive_. What in Sam Hill does that mean? Wait…here's the one from this city. There are six people alive…fifteen dead. Twenty one samples…exactly twenty one samples for every site."

I noticed that each of the tubes had a number on them. Dickerson found the number and names on the computer to match the tube number. He called them out.

"Anna Stark…that's the woman you guys pulled out, Yura Barkov, Jack…Jack Bartlett…" he said. Dickerson's face twisted.

"Wait…THE Jack Bartlett? From the Sand Island Squadron?!" Walt shouted.

"Guilty as charged." said the old man. I looked back at him and he simply laughed while coughing at the same time.

Time stood still. We all looked at one another and I looked back at the old man…and he just smiled. My face was frozen in shock. My parents had no idea about this man's whereabouts when I was a kid. They knew before I was born, but then he vanished and had been missing for nineteen years! This was the man who trained my parents in air to air combat. They were forged in the fires of Sand Island and their craftsman was Jack Bartlett, the man they called _Heartbreak_. In reality, I owed this man a huge debt of gratitude. We all did. After all, he taught my parents how to survive. If my mom and dad had been truly killed in that war, my entire family would have been erased from history.

Catherine would have never have been born. Tasha, me and Astrid would never have existed. And there were the other things to consider. Ocktabursk would have been destroyed in a nuclear fire. Oured would have been destroyed. Or rather, the very base of it all...the war would have gone on into 2011 and more lives would have been lost.

And here was another issue: what about the Verusan War of 2016? Cormorance Alou, Lillian Izzo, Polly Elbe, Michael Saschsenronde, Paulo Scirro, Andrew Fisch, Walter Snow, Hans Grimm, Peter Moore, Ammon Kaida, Baraka Molina, Xalia Masson, Jaklyn Ors, Emmanulle Ganda, Othello Harem, Fritz Mendenhall ...all of them dogfighting _legends._

There would be no measuring stick if my parents hadn't survived 2010. There would be no dynasty, no one to show them how air to air combat was done. For the Versuans, there'd be no enemy to give their best shot.

History would have been _vastly_ different. And this tree all started because of Jack Bartlett. He, the legendary taskmaster of Sand Island, and this grizzled old man were one in the same. He was the unfortunate soul we plucked from a sci-fi tube in a city that betrayed the lab's sophistication.

_Why did he vanish for nineteen years...and h__ow the hell did he end up the Soma's hands?_

Next Chapter: It's Not the Plague that Kills You...


	12. It's Not the Plague That Kills You

Chapter 12: It's Not the Plague that Kills You...

There was no time to ask those questions about Bartlett. As soon as the thought entered my mind, Dickerson looked on the screen and what he saw horrified him even more.

"Hey…what the hell is this? A listing of…potential samples. Why would they have that?" Lieutenant Dickerson said.

On the outside, we'd received reports that most of the enemies in the hamlets were killed, captured or had retreated to the outskirts. The battle was still on in Baquenta, but this was infinitely more important. G1's hunch had been right and now the entire Battalion was scouring through the poor section looking for more potential labs. I wondered why the Soma put such a facility here; then again, if it were in some deep underground complex it would have been the first place intel at the Pentagon looked. This particular facility had to be a newer one as they didn't have time to properly cover up the newer tile. Or, they probably had some covering over it.

The only definite things we knew were that this Percival, this architect of the last war's super weapon, had a lot more questions and answers to be found; but the exact purpose of the facility remained to be seen. There were bodies in the meat locker, people in science fiction tubes, an underground truck dock that led to a lift up to the ground.

Sueltana Devia was alive as far as we knew and that was good enough for me. There was no sign of her husband though. But she was being subjected to whatever the hell the Soma were doing in these labs. We were determined to find that out. Whatever knowledge these computers held would reveal it all to us. But what Dickerson found shocked us all.

_**Potential Samples**_

_**Note: Capture of suspected carriers of highest priority. Operation Ozymandias to be conducted in force as of 9-3-2037, 0000 hours.**_

**Abby Magnusson, DOB 8-27-2011 (Confirmed Carrier) / (Priority Capture, Medium Threat)**

**Carile Southerland, DOB 3-11-2019 (Confirmed Carrier) / (High Priority Capture, Low Threat)**

**Walter Snow, DOB 5-12-2017 (Confirmed Carrier) / (Priority Capture, High Threat)**

**Nastasha Crucien, DOB 2-15-2014 (Confirmed Carrier)**

**Elleria Tsagi, DOB 4-31-2012 **

***Marton Pavol, DOB 1-13-2020 (Not currently on any military personnel) (Inconclusive, 18 percent chance of Carrier Status)**

***Manal D'Asitae, DOB 2-4-2027 (Not currently on any military personnel, Confirmed Carrier, High Priority Capture)**

***Asura D'Asitae, DOB 2-4-2027 (Not currently on any military personnel, Confirmed Carrier, High Priority Capture)**

**Rudy Cohen, DOB 11-12-2013**

**Damien Measels, DOB 6-21-2018**

**Emilio White, DOB 12-3-2019**

**Demetrius Wash, DOB 12-3-2015 (Confirmed Carrier) / (Priority Capture, Very High Threat)**

**Donald Finch, DOB 8-27-2011 (Confirmed Carrier) **

**Alphonso Adair, DOB 7-4-2013 (Confirmed Carrier) / (High Priority Capture, Very High Threat, **_**Extremely**_** Dangerous)**

**Jacques Gray, DOB 1-27-2013 (Inconclusive, 45 percent chance of Carrier Status)**

**Micho Alou, DOB 1-12-2016 (Confirmed Carrier)/ (High Priority Capture, High Threat)**

***Joachim Alou, DOB 4-12-2018 (Not currently on any military personnel, Confirmed Carrier)**

**Adrian Abernathy, DOB 9-15-2017 (Confirmed Carrier) / (Priority Capture, Medium to High Threat)**

**Xanthia King DOB 5-27-2015 (Confirmed Carrier) / (High Priority Capture, Medium Threat)**

***Note: Believed to be in the Severja area, possibly among Osean/Loyalist aid camps. **

**Additional Note: Any tactics required to capture the targets are permitted. Civilian targets expendable. **

I froze at the last two names. When I saw it, everything in my mind caved in. I was fortunate my skull didn't cave in as well. Time stopped for me a second later.

****Brandon Black, DOB 9-19-2017 (Confirmed Carrier) / (Highest Priority Capture, High Threat, **_**Extremely**_** Dangerous)**

****Tasha Black, DOB 9-19-2017 (Confirmed Carrier) / (High Priority Capture, Low Threat)**

****Note: Last names indicative of name change, parent-child names are inconsistent.**

I was looking at an image of _my own name_. My sister's name was there as well. My eyes bulged and I had to step back a bit. My heart froze up for a moment and I thought I was dead. I believed it was a lie, but there was a picture of my face. It wasn't in my dress blues or anything. It was just a normal close-up, but I can't remember when it was taken. It wasn't a license photo and there was nothing behind my face. _Where did they get it from?_ _Was it digitally created? _

But my name was in this computer. The enemy…knew about me. Not just me, but Micho, Walt, Alphonso, my sister, Xanthia…

It was too much.

"Why…the hell…is my name in here?" I said, my body was near catatonic.

"Why is the Soma so interested in you?" Dickerson said. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Walt ran up and looked like he'd seen a ghost when he saw his own name.

"Damn, homes…they gunning for you…and me! Your sister…they're gunning for us! Why?!" Walt shouted.

"Brandon, they consider YOU…_extremely dangerous_!? Are you kidding me?" Chapman said.

I stepped back from the computer screen. I was shaken. I couldn't breathe again. The Soma, a group we all thought were fundamentally backwards, had access to data of over a thousand people…among them all were dozens and dozens of people we all knew privately or individually. Our faces told the stories of shock, confusion, fear and anger.

"This is twisted." I said.

Then I looked back at the profile under my name:

**Familial relationships: **

**David Lovecraft, DOB 1-7-1988**

**Kei Nagase, DOB 12-25-1987**

**Astrid Lovecraft DOB 3-14-2026**

Not Astrid Black, or Lilly or Christopher. My family's _real_ names were all in the open to see.

…and their _pictures_. Everyone had pictures.

Pictures of my family, taken from the times they flew in the air. Apparently, whoever supplied the Soma with these pictures didn't buy my parents' _hidden_ identities.

"They got pictures? Those are my parents!" I said, on a kneejerk reaction.

"Who is…wait…it's not named…you…you got to be kidding me?!" Cameron said, stepping back from me.

"Brandon…you mean me that your parents are the leads of the Sand Island Squadron? They were supposed to be dead for twenty seven years!" Chapman shouted.

I didn't know what to say anymore.

"Wow, if that's true…that's pretty freaking cool!" Cameron said.

By now, Micho had returned from Doc's position, but Gray didn't even care that his name was on the list. He was helping the other officers secure the new prisoner, this Percival.

Micho took one look at the list and shouted, "Oh, shit! My wife's on this list!"

**Marion Cross (Not currently on any military personnel)**

***Rachel Sedwick-Alou, DOB 8-22-2013 (Not currently on any military personnel, Low Priority Capture) / (Confirmed Carrier, Extremely Low Chance of Target Acquisition)**

**Dulcinea Dasana, DOB 6-30-2018 (Not currently on any military personnel, Medium Priority Capture) / (Confirmed Carrier)**

Dulcinea.

Then, all I knew was the feeling of a strange underground river of magma inside into my mind. My girl's name was on their hit list. I knew computers were dumb, but this was no lie. It was right there on the computer screen for all to see. The flames of rage filled my heart and all I could do grit my teeth as not to scream curses at this inanimate object of bright lights, circuits and keys.

"Forget that. What I want to know is…why do they want _us_?" I asked.

Rico looked livid. But I didn't mention my sister at all. He paced around the white and black tubes. "Why would the Soma experiment with the virus on people? I thought it was supposed to kill plants and trees and shit."

Alphonso interrupted, "Don't be dense, Rico. It's obvious what they were doing here. They were trying to make a potent form of the virus. They're trying to make a greater bio-chemical terror."

What were we carrying that made _us_ targets? The only hypothesis was that it had to be something genetic. _Was this virus something that affected things on a genetic level_, I wondered.

Right then, I knew. That was why the Soma's men were kidnapping people. They were testing out a new form of the virus on people gathered at all these "sites". It was an institutional project in an attempt to develop a bio-chemical weapon that could kill tons of people at once. Or was it? If the virus was meant to kill people, why would they leave people who resisted the virus alive? The others were killed…so what were the Hazri _really_ trying to accomplish?

The only thing we could do was to ask the people in the tubes. Micho paced around while shaking his head. He was panicked and fearful. They were two traits that Micho Alou generally didn't have.

"I can't believe they're after Rachel. My brother too…what…?" Micho said. His voice was short and he breathed laboriously with each step of his feet.

"What the hell's going on? Why is this happening?" Micho asked, turning to Bartlett and the others.

The old man, still wet from the tubes, stood up on his own power and pointed at the computer.

"Notice anything…similar about all those names?" Bartlett said.

"What do you mean? We…and they are all between 16 and 25. But, the others they found are of different age groups. That doesn't mean anything." MacGruber said.

"There's no connection. There's regular Yukes, people like us, men, woman, immigrants, some people I've never heard of." Dickerson said.

I looked at the first name and I was surprised the list wasn't in alphabetical order. _Abby Magnusson._

I looked at the picture of the blonde. Her skin was perfect, unblemished. But in those lack of lines and perfect outline of facial features, I noticed the face looked eerily similar to Finch of my sister's company. But under familial relationships, there was only this: **Inconclusive.**

"I've seen that woman before." I said.

"Who?" asked MacGruber.

"This Abby Magnusson was the same chick who was with the guys who were pulling bodies out of the smashed vehicles on U80. 101st, do you remember?" I said, looking at Alphonso's direction.

Walt, like Micho, was pacing around. But Walt was furious. "Hell no! God…this is wrong, man! This has never happened in a war before. How the hell did the enemy get personal information about us?"

Alphonso began helping Cameron secure the other survivors as Doc Gray and the others began wheeling out Percival. "I don't know too much about that. But I bet our new EPW might be able to give us some information about it in that regard."

Bartlett walked over to me and gave me a wily smile. Bartlett, upon closer inspection, looked nothing like I thought he would be if he was old. My family had a few pictures of him and when I thought about it, he looked seriously different with his frail, graying looks.

The old man spoke in a stronger voice, "That other Dogman, that scientist guy was the reason. They called him the Crying Man. He was one crazy, evil bastard. He did all kinds of twisted things to people. The Apache Woman…she's just the beginning."

"How do you know this?" asked Captain Morrison.

"Long before the war, I was doing mercenary work with the Yukes. I was helping out their intelligence groups. They were investigating Hazri Yukes suspected of plotting terrorist acts. That's when the Crying Man first popped up. He was _nuts_. We did some digging and we found out his real name's not even Asimov. He was a Belkan/Yuke scientist named Moren Vaurislaus Von Dietrich." said Bartlett.

Bartlett coughed again, "He was a genius, but he was crazy. The Yuktobanian Special Forces got orders to arrest him one month before the war, but someone on their team betrayed them and they all got killed. The traitor at large: a disgruntled female officer who'd been kicked off the staff due to budget cuts."

I said instinctively, "The Apache Woman."

I thought it was ironic the Soma allowed a female to lead one of their armies.

Bartlett continued, "They headed up the research along with this other man…this Vicious guy. Apparently they were the ones who created the Seelow Rot virus."

"Go on." Captain Morrison.

"I'm not sure how they did it, but while we tried to track 'em down during the war, we started hearing about people being kidnapped in large droves. We found one of the labs…where this guy's so-called sister was. But we got ambushed, cut off and caught. Then, they knocked me out. I was out forever, then I woke up here and it turned out I'd been in a coma for months. I woke up in one of these tubes." Bartlett said, patting the side of one of the tubes.

"What are the Soma's leaders trying to accomplish?" asked the Captain.

Bartlett concluded, "I have no idea. But that guy over there…the foreign guy, he was providing them with this technological stuff. Then he mentioned something about a former employee of Hephaestus Corporation stealing private information…"

As Bartlett finished, I saw TAC flash when another group of officers appeared near us. But the name popped up: Colonel Holland. There were also two other people with them. But there was no ID for either of them.

"Sir. Colonel Holland has arrived." Dickerson said. "The balance of Team 3 has also arrived."

"What's Colonel Holland doing here?" Captain Morrison asked. I asked myself that same question.

When Morrison appeared, he was flanked by two other officers. Lt. Commander Bohr was the first and Major Craft from Battalion Staff was the other. What amazed me were the two other people behind them. I remembered both of them far too well. The first was, amazingly, the mahogany haired Helena Sorenson. The woman who had that bullshit title: _executive of military personnel affairs. _I never forgot those strange violet eyes. But this time, she didn't have on the black blazer or the pearls. She was dressed in all old school desert camouflage with body armor. Her aide, the black haired movie star Versuan-looking man was dressed in the same crap he had on the last time I saw him back at Bethlehem.

"Captain Morrison." Holland said in his higher pitched, quick voice. "Excellent work. I need a sitrep on this situation."

"Sir, we've secured this bunker, apparently some kind of research lab. We've captured one EPW and secured several civilians, six alive but shaken and fifteen deceased; cause of death unknown." Morrison replied. Holland paced around, looking at the tubes for a minute. Then he turned back to the our Company Commander.

"Captain, it seems our mission has changed. 82nd Airborne has reported the location of another one of these underground labs. From what we've determined, there are several of these around Jilachi and Psel. We're rolling these people up to Division for interrogation. Have your company on standby after the corporate people finish." The Colonel said.

"Yes sir." The Captain said.

Sorenson looked on the computer screen over Dickerson's shoulder for at least two minutes. She then forced the LT off and looked at the information for another few minutes. In the process, more H Corp and Battalion personnel came down with large plastic boxes and began putting laboratory objects into them. The survivors were helped up by Bohr's team. I didn't even question any of it. I figured it was all part of this grand plan. Sorenson finished her look over the computer, turned to her aide.

She said, "It's just as I feared, Mr. Kaida. The enemy has far too much access to this information. Secure the computers and the bodies for examination."

"On it." The man replied. I thought…_Mr. Kaida…why does that name sound so familiar?_

Sorenson turned to the thick-chested Holland. "Colonel, I suggest your men prepare the lab for immediate decontamination."

"That's not a bad idea. Captain Morrison, assign a security team and place C4 charges on the facility. Prepare controlled detonation once all the H Corp people finish boxing up the place." Holland said.

"Roger sir." Morrison then turned to us, "MacGruber, Adair, you guys are on it?"

MacGruber said, "Roger that sir. Mathis, Wilcox, you two get on it. Rico, you and Walt secure the area around the docks. Everyone else, remain in the area and wait for orders."

As we began to exit the facility, Bartlett stopped me.

"You know…you look just like your dad. Probably smarter than he was." Bartlett said. "Take care of yourself kid. Save the last bullet for yourself."

Bartlett started coughing again and I couldn't think of anything to say. I just nodded my head and walked on.

It was strange. It seemed after the war ended, Bartlett's work never did. He had to be close to seventy years old and yet he was still going strong. My parents would have been happy to know he was alive after all these years. His story was plausible as I knew a little about his history. All I knew was what my parents told me about him.

My mother had a great affection for Bartlett. That almost got her killed on at several occasions. At one point in my mother's diary, she remarked about Davenport's humorous assertion that she was in love with the old dog and that subsequently had a role in those idiotic decisions. But any wonders about him were apt; after all, the Captain's training was the reason my parents survived the war.

But the greatest lesson of all came from my father. It was the ultimate lesson that he never actually taught in words, but by actions. Bartlett, from what I knew, did things his way. Consequently, it wasn't always military doctrine. He did what he knew was right and from Heartbreak my father passed on the same lesson to me when I told him I wanted to be a hero.

My father said that heroism was doing what few else would do if given a choice. And that choice was always to do the right thing, even if you were hated because of it. Making the choice meant that you were a target and rational people could and often would turn on you because of it. You were always judged by the amount of enemies you had and the more you had, the more right you usually were.

It was just like back at the camp with the twin girls. They would not be constrained by old, senseless rules. We were hated by the men and boys of the camp. I thought about the computer screen with my name on that list. I suddenly thought wasn't ready to be that target anymore.

As everyone walked off, it all flooded into my head.

I couldn't wrap my head around any of it. The idea of me, Brandon Lovecraft, being a target was like the idea about the edge of the universe. Either it didn't exist or it was completely outrageous to begin with.

I was a soldier. I was trained to fight and kill the enemy. I accepted the idea of traveling to another country with a gun in my hand and the idea I may or may not come back. It wasn't supposed to be personal. The enemy was there to do the same thing I was. I was okay with this. This had been done since the beginning of time.

But it was rare to have a single warrior or group of warriors singled out by the enemy. It wasn't all in a tactical or strategic sense…that was when war became personal. In the modern battlefield, the hunted ones were either snipers or ace fighter pilots.

My parents didn't sugarcoat their experience in 2010 and 2016. The Razgriz were persona non grata. They were targeted by every elite squadron the Yukes (and Belkans) had. They got everyone's best shot. Despite a little hubris now and then, my parents had escaped death countless times. And it didn't stop there. They were targeted in the Versuan War as well by elite squadrons. They'd lost plenty of friends along the way. Not even my parents were lucky to evade the enemy entirely. My mother had been captured, tortured and was only able to escape because of, ironically, help from insurgents. They had monetary bounties placed on their heads and they couldn't even step foot in Rouge Park, Little Dresdene, Sudentor or anywhere in Detroit District.

My father told me that the amount of rivals you had was directly proportional to how good you were. But the liabilities worked the same way. It was obvious that declaring a person a target meant that all other priorities were ignored. That meant people had to die, more often than otherwise.

All the pressure was on the hunted. The hunter had no rules to follow unless the hunted chose his own battleground. I was on the Soma's turf.

How far would the Soma go to get not only me, but everyone on the list? What were they really looking for? Why did they need us? I already knew how fickle and callous the Soma and the Dogmen could be. They'd already destroyed the wildlife. What else could they burn to the ground to claim what they wanted?

And why?

**1630 hrs**

Again, everything was delayed. We moved to the other side of town to wait for the controlled detonation. Wilcox, Mathis and the engineers did their jobs well. I'm sure 3rd Marines on the far western side heard it.

The entire time I was alone. Our LARA was destroyed so we had to wait for a reserve before whatever our next mission was. We stood around the ruins of Baquenta and did little except check and reload weapons, discuss kills and _potential_ kills. But I knew what they were really talking about everyone on the list. They started calling it the _Death Letter List_. We were being hunted. Some people didn't buy into it. I know Desormeaux wasn't. He was bragging about messing up some Dogmen that tried to shoot at him. Marco's name wasn't even on the goddamn list and he was talking about killing Dogmen!

I wasn't bragging. I was the one they were truly hunting for. Buy why? What did I have that the enemy wanted? It couldn't be my eyes; what use would they have? What did I do to draw their ire?

As I thought that, Captain Morrison walked up to me near one of the destroyed houses. I'd heard little from our Captain in the time here in Yuktobania. He probably didn't know much about my problems apart from the obvious. But Morrison never seemed to dwell on things. Thankfully, Captain Morrison put a moratorium on the discussion about my parents' true identity rather quick. A few were already suspicious given the stories I'd given them. I only told, as my parents beat the rule into my head as a child, the modified truth that they were veterans of the Versuan War. But given their pictures and the people they knew around Osea, it was practically impossible to stay completely anonymous outside their circle. The fact that they'd remained a secret from the general public for twenty seven years was an accomplishment in it of itself.

But we had _bigger_ problems than the identity of my parents. Certain people within our company, and the Marine Corps in general…and the Army, and certain civilians were being targeted by the Dogmen for some twisted experiment.

"You doing alright, Corporal Black?" the Captain asked me.

"Well, apart from the fact I'm pissed off that the Soma want to experiment on me and my sister…and a couple of people I know…I'm doing fine." I said.

"Well, it looks like we may have a new mission. Stay frosty now and hang in there." He said, patting my shoulder.

"Yes sir." I said.

I kept looking at the road unable to figure anything out. I was in a secure area, and only had the list in the back of my mind. My girlfriend was on that list and I could only wonder why they wanted her. I wished I had my Queue. I could have told her to hop on the next plane out of Yuke-land and never look back. I just sent a simple letter. The love of my post-adolescent life was in balance and whatever that important thing she had to tell me was irrelevant at this point.

Speaking of post-adolescent love, I wondered about Rico and Tasha. When I found about them, I was a little angry with my sister for not at least telling me about him. But even then, he looked distant. He'd been like that since he'd first come to our company. He rarely spoke about her and when some did ask about her, he dodged the question. Now I had all kinds of conflicting tales about Rico. Some were good and some were like Chapman's tales.

_They don't remember me, but I went to St. Julia's Parish in November City. I remember Rico, used to live across the street from me. I didn't know him that well, but this…thing he's having with Dulcinea, it's not good._

_I'm not trying to be glib, but you better get this situation squared away ASAP. This has got bad news written all over it. Writing love letters…he's got stalker written all over him._

_There's this story that he was doing this girl that got drugged..._

_That_ was the truth I needed to find out. But Chapman was a country kid…living in November City. I didn't know much about NC, but November was a very liberal city. That alone made the story slightly sketchy. He did have some valid points, but everything he told me could have been hearsay and I knew all too well that most stories Marines told meant jack squat. You generally knew who was generally full of it in your company. There were two general rules about stories. One, the people who told the most stories was always full of crap. Second, the people who would tell the least stories were always the credible ones in crisis.

I looked around and could not find Walt or Rico. Most of us didn't even have TAC on because we were in a secure area…well, mostly secure.

_Bad sign. _

Those two had become a little friendlier lately. The fact I knew that was all the more reason to ask a few tough questions. Walt was a bad guy.

Even though he had been on his best behavior while in-country, I knew Walter Snow for what he really was. He was punk chauvinist and would willingly slap a woman if he could. He also did not think highly of Tasha.

_Another bad sign. _

And most damning of all, Rico practically admitted he had feelings for Dulcinea. The only thing that kept me from asking the proper questions was a firefight or two. It got shifted to the backburner as we invaded Severja. Now we were sitting around waiting for our next move.

There was no better time to lay down the law.

Dulcinea was _my_ girlfriend and I'd be damned if Rico Lazarus was going to get involved. What implications this would have with Tasha remained to be seen.

I walked over behind one of the rows of homes and crept carefully along the dry ground. I heard voices up ahead in one of the houses. The houses were made of amber colored mud bricks and old sticks, reeds and pieces of cement and scrap metal. It was not the safest place in the world. On the third house in the back, I heard the voices again as I used the stealth training I received at St. Hewlett to listen to ambient sounds inside, even with the distant fighting. In the darkness, I heard them; just the people I needed to hear. I set down my small ruck and leaned against the wall near the open doorway.

_Rico: That's got to suck for Brandon, his __**girl**__ being a target. _

I noticed the emphasis he put on…_girl_. He seemed insulted.

_Walt: That's some twisted stuff. They even got D-Wash and Abby…Al too. Unbelievable. Then there's Tasha, Micho AND his wife on the list?! __**Wow**__. _

_Rico: Tasha? What the hell is she going to do? She'll be the easiest target they got. _

_Walt: Do I sense sarcasm…or is it contempt in that voice of yours Rico. Can I assume this means what I think it does? Do I finally get to say that you never cared about Tasha? _

_Rico: What? _

_Walt: Rico, don't start with me. You can fool Brandon and get away with it. But me? No way. I'm like the truth serum around here and the moment I found out about you and Tasha…I couldn't believe it. Especially what I already knew about you… _

_Rico: Walt, please. Can we move on? _

_Walt: A thief can't fool a thief, Rico. We both know you want Brandon's girl. Shit, you told me before Tasha told him! The __**second**__ you found out Brandon was with Dulcinea. _

_Rico: You've got no right telling me off. You think all women belong in the kitchen. _

_Walt: And that's exactly why I saw right through you. See, guys like you and Charles think you're slick. But you can't fool me with all your desire about your girl that you don't even really love. I know the guys in the good relationships. Al, Gray, Micho, Cameron, Brandon…guys who don't spend time bragging about their women…because we both know you're still obsessed with his girl. _

_Rico: Fine, I'll admit it. There is a part of me that's still infatuated with Dulcinea and I have no idea how she ended up with Brandon of all people. She's a high maintenance chick from a family with some serious upper middle class cash._

_Walt: I don't blame you. Now I'm telling anyone, I swear. But __**finally**__, the truth comes out. I always knew there were some shenanigans with you two. I mean, Kate…Kate looks better than Tasha! And Kate's a Catholic School born, pudgy, ice cream eating bitch._

It was at that point, I moved in. I stomped in, then ran in and grabbed Rico by the throat, pushing him to the back of the ruined wall.

"What are you doing!?" he shouted. "Dude, calm down!"

"I'm out!" Walt said, quickly leaving us.

"You mean…to tell me…that you have the gall to think you can take my girl from me?!"

"That's real mature Brandon. I'm sure your girl toy will like that." Rico said, laughing in my face.

"Shut up!" I said. "Have you lost your mind?!"

Rico then pulled my hand off in a strong motion. He was just as strong as me, but he caught me off guard a little.

"It _is_ true. I never thought she'd fall for someone like you. Yeah, it's good now, but what is she going to think about you later when she realizes you're just some scatterbrained, lying, momma's boy…you two faced piece of shit. You and Tasha been lying to people for nineteen years about who your real parents are! Now, you're trying to get us all killed with your little marked-for-death thing going on!" he said.

"What was it all for then, this facade with my sister? You didn't even love her at all! You actually think you're gonna take my girl from me because you're better looking than me? Cause you got more money?! Whatever delusional world you're living in, I don't want any part of it!" I shouted.

Rico laughed right in my face, "She was the one who fell in love with me after a few weeks. It's Tasha's own fault. Not every relationship ends with a white dress and a rented tux."

I stood back from him in sheer horror. Some part of me should have beat the crap out of him right then and there, but another half told me to listen and find out why…_then_ beat the crap out of him.

"You were treating my sister like something to be used and thrown away!" I said.

"There's a _reason_ your sister was a virgin before I met her. You can only date brainless blondes for so long. Okay, at first I _did_ like her. She was real smart, very level headed. But…you can only do that for a little while. Then she annoyed the shit out of me, Brandon! I can't believe you shared a bedroom with her until you were fifteen! She's a freaking dork! She likes those stupid cartoons with androgynous boys and girls. She's a nerd, a waste of my time! The only reason I stayed with her was because the nights were good. Otherwise, I wanted as much space between us as humanly possible. So what she knew cars? I don't care about transmissions! And all the time…she was talking about how cool you were and how she looked up to you. I wanted to kill myself, but there was a part of me that couldn't let go of her because that part _did_ feel sorry for her."

"You little…" I said, gritting my teeth, "Why didn't you just end it?"

Rico answered, "I just stopped caring once I got here. Well, when she lost her hair that was the end. I couldn't hold on your sis any longer. I only acted like I cared in front of you until I could find a chance to break up with her…but I never got one at BP…thanks to you showing up with the woman you didn't deserve. Tasha was entirely too clingy. She had this sexual hold over me, I'll give her that."

I walked right up to his face and spoke just enough not to shout, but loud and serious enough to make my point clear. I pointed right at his face.

"Rico, you selfish, conniving little punk, if you even _think_ about Dulcinea I will punch you so hard the kids you'll probably never have will feel it."

Rico smiled back at me, "I'd like to see you try that…assuming the enemy doesn't kill you first. Oh that's right, _you're_ the hunted one."

Rico then turned and left without saying another word. I just stood there as if the world had been shaken by one giant earthquake and I was still, only to watch everything I thought was real, what I could control, collapse like houses of cards.

Rico wasn't acting strange because he hated me. He hated me and Dulcinea. It wasn't about love. It was about his personal satisfaction. He did care about Tasha, for five minutes. Once he'd slept with her, he couldn't handle it anymore. Unlike most guys with sense, which were few and far between, he didn't end it and stayed in the relationship just to use my sister as a sex object for the short time he knew her. The entire scale was unbalanced from the start. Tasha invested everything into this relationship, her first true relationship with someone she cared about. I saw it in her face back in BP. I saw it in her words.

That was why she didn't tell me about Rico until she _had_ to do it. She knew I would have found out the truth long before I did. I would have dug and dug until I got the truth. But poor Tasha, she'd invested so much into the relationship. When she returned to get the interest…she would find nothing but an empty vault. Rico took her assets and ran. Love, unlike money, was not federally insured.

And there was one other terrible thing to consider. Dulcinea. Was Chapman's story true? Did he and Charles really go to a party and drug a girl to sleep with? I doubted it before.

No more.

If he really did that, then Rico's view of women was a distorted and evil one. Even Walt was a good guy compared to Rico now. It was the equivalent of comparing the murderer and the child molester in prison. Why should I've believed that he loved Dulcinea back then? If that was the way he treated Tasha, God _knew_ who he treated other girls.

The boiling rage reached the bottom of my throat as I thought about the insanity of it all. He'd broken my sister's heart long before I even knew. That was unforgivable. Rico was probably not capable of loving anyone. He came from a normal family. It didn't make any sense. What was the point of it all?

But he wanted me gone. He didn't care about me at all. _I was the hunted one_. Chapman was right. My mother had every reason to be skeptical. I had to do something fast. Rico Lazarus had the makings of a complete sociopath.

"Dude!" I heard someone shout. I turned and Cameron was running up to me.

"What's going on?" I said.

"1st Marines found the Apache Woman up at some plantation north of the city. Get your weapon, we're gonna get some!" Cameron shouted.

I grabbed everything and ran back to the assembly area. I had no idea where exactly we were going, but I knew we had a legit mission this time and one that would not be interrupted by the enemy's will.

I hoped.

Some of the maintenance guys from the company lent us one of their LARAs. MacGruber, Chapman, Marco and Alphonso were already inside. Wash and Abernathy were also getting on board as I arrived. As I got in, I wasn't concerned about holding a sector or listening to Alphonso's words. I reached around in my bag for my past; that being all my family photos.

I rambled around and found the brown book with pictures of my family; embarrassing, beautiful and timeless all. There were fifty of them and five of them were from our beach vacation when Tasha and I were thirteen. We were at the beach in the Southern Region outside Angel Island.

One was my mother and she was wearing this purple bikini dress while she was playing with a five year old Astrid. The second was one taken right after that. I had on this stupid tropical shirt and swimming trunks and my sister had one this bumblebee yellow bikini and she was right behind me. We were both sitting down underneath my father's massive umbrella while he took the photo. Her arms were wrapped around the back of my neck, and her head was close to my face as gave me a kiss on the side of my cheek…something that embarrassed me to no end.

The last one was all of us together. I looked at the other pictures of Tasha and me as we were arm in arm, two sides of the same coin; elementary school, sweet sixteen, the prom (we went together), graduation, boot camp. Then the last two were the ones that truly caught my eye. The first was Tasha and Dulcinea together on Pennsylvania Avenue in Oured when we visited Bright Hill over the summer after graduation. They were wearing these matching gray tank tops and cargo mini-shorts (it was hot as hell in Oured that day). I noticed the simple joy in their eyes as they stared back at me; two of the three most important women in my life.

The last one was Tasha herself. It was a black and white photo taken just outside our house. She was lying alongside a tree trunk, twirling a rare dandelion in her fingers. Her face was depressed, her eyes were sunken and her cheeks were low. She'd been dumped by this jerk named Tommy Miller. I was taking pictures for our tenth grade art class and she let me take a photo. It was actually the best photo of the class. My art teacher, Mrs. Bolo, called it a _saddened sense of beauty_. She was right. My sister was always a saddened beauty. Now, even more so since Rico had no desire to be near her.

"I'm sorry, Tasha." I said.

"Would you quit reminiscing and get on your sector?" Alphonso said a second later. "We're in a war zone here."

I put the book away and picked up my rifle. Rico wasn't in the vehicle with us. I guessed that was good enough. Chapman turned over the vehicle and everyone else in the company began to peel out of the area.

And so it went.

***

_**Tasha**_

**December 3, 2037**

**1730 hrs**

We had no idea what was going on in Severja. There could have been giant bunnies with rockets flanking First Marines, and we wouldn't have known a thing. I had no idea how Rico was doing. I knew he was probably being asked about me, and he gave him his typical answer. _Poor guy_, I thought, _he's so afraid of jinxing himself if he talks about me._ It was ridiculous how much I loved him. I wondered if it was against all common sense, but I knew the feelings I had for that man were true.

Xanthia and I somehow turned the simple act of digging our fighting holes into a vaudevillian act. When we started, we dug right next to each other at each other's backs. Slowly, we found ourselves digging a little too close. Considering the small distance between us, we just dug out the remainder and shared the thing. After the blunders and wonders in Kazar, everyone had settled down. Finch wasn't as neurotic as he usually was. I was a little upset because what started as a Division wide order in Recon became widespread. Our Queue 30s, our new rapid lifelines to friends and family, were taken away.

But as I thought about it, it didn't bother me as much because my father was wearing me the hell out. He was always bringing up these old, embarrassing stories and this advice about war that didn't help me at all. Blaze was a smart man, but his air to air combat experience didn't apply to my situation.

It's not that I didn't want him to talk to me, but sometimes being daddy's little girl was a burden. It was a shame too, because I was very close to my father. My father was more shocked that I signed up than Brandon. Back then, the world was at peace and my dad must have known something was amiss. He had a sixth sense about life…and he knew when things were wrong. If he didn't, he probably would have died…and I wouldn't exist.

I had to admit, my senses _were _lacking. Most of us soldiers on the ground were concerned with the present and not this _big picture_. We let officers worry about that…most of the time. However, there were times when our minds wandered and asked we really didn't need to ask. _What was really going on back home?_ That was probably the question everyone thought about at one point or another. We knew why the war happened. Some idiot fascist named Musharak rallied a fringe portion the Yuke population, about fifty million people, and toppled an already tenuous Democratic government. In an act of sheer insanity, they detonated a pseudo-nuclear device in an international city. The Madame President got us off the fence and _boom_, we were at war. All this was in approximately one calendar year.

The answers to the pertinent questions we got through the Queues. The powers that be took them away and some of us were bitter, bitter people. Some of the others were kept sane solely because of communication with family, but the rapid response was taken away. It was done, as it was often in the military, without explanation. I wasn't _that_ bitter, because I had _two_ things to keep me sane. One was taken away. The other was Xanthia Shanique King.

There was a distant, massive explosion from our position, somewhere near the northern part of the city. We were on an incline and had a good view of Severja.

"Damn, didn't Recon kick their asses already?" Xanthia said, shaking her head.

She was probably the most livid of us all. Most of the people in our company were single, divorced, or had older kids. Xanthia had a five year old son named Derron. He had a serious eye disease called Neurablasena, but I was the only one of the few who knew. But in this company, if Xanthia were to say it out loud to me, the entire company would know in five minutes. The people in Pikes Hugo would know in fifteen. Lillian was near us, as well as Jason, Charles, Carly South, Mercier, and Rebecca.

"So tell more about your life." Xanthia asked the reporter.

"Why are you interested in _my_ life? I came here to find out about yours." Lillian replied.

"Trust me, your life's much more fascinating than mine. I grew up on the Sade Row, Ten Mile, Fox Hill…" said Xanthia, shaking her head.

"What's Rutherford _really_ like?" Lillian asked her.

Xanthia took a deep breath. "It depends on what part of town you live in. I was born in R-Town, but after my dad got some money when I was a kid…he took as far away from the Sade Row projects. Then he got a job at the radio station and made the forty minute commute every morning. After my father died, we had to move back into the Sade Row 'cause we couldn't afford the house anymore."

"I thought Ten Mile was the bad part of town." I said.

"No, it's just a fancy name for lower downtown. Ten Mile was actually the old name for Rutherford but I don't remember why they changed the name. Sade Row was just on the outskirts. All the rich white people lived downtown near High Station and Friendship Vista in those penthouses along the Madison River."

"What's that?" Izzo asked. Lillian looked down and saw Xanthia putting away a small picture. I looked at the picture as Lillian asked about it. He looked like most five year old black kids did. However, his eyes were squints and his pupils were a faded brown. I knew they were faded because I knew regular brown eyes when I saw them…and these were obviously not.

"That's my son, Derron. He's…got a condition." She said, not wanting to give it away. But she should have known about Lillian Izzo. She was going to dig until she was told to stop…or hit a water main.

"What happened to him?" our reporter asked.

Zanne didn't move, she didn't blink for a few seconds. Finally she closed her eyes and spoke, "Neurablasena."

I knew more than my fair share about Neurablasena. It was actually just a much more aggressive version of retinoblastoma. It wasn't a pure _cancer_ per se, but for all intents and purposes, Derron _had_ cancer. However, retinoblastoma was very treatable, and by 2030, a stage IV case could even be addressed. But God liked to play practical jokes in the field of medicine. Neurablasena was a new problem and at the time it started to become a plague, much like Seelow Rot on the Yuke ecosystem.

It was a plague for which there was no cure.

And every child who had Neurablasena…died by age twelve. To make things even more tragic, Detroit District and Rutherford in general had, by far, the highest reported cases of Neurablasena.

"God, that's awful!" Lillian said, shocked.

"The doctors say he's gonna be blind by the time he's seven. His dad wants nothing to do with him. Even the good men I know can't afford _that_ kind of insurance." Zanne said. Corporal Ellerbe had put his gun down and walked over to my position. He looked down and shook his head.

"Health insurance is a real bitch these days." Lillian added with a snarl.

Charles turned to Zanne, "That's why you joined, Zanne? Couldn't turn down the health care and not being forced in because you stole stuff?

Zanne didn't react to what I initially thought was more of Charles' sarcastic comments. But his voice did actually sound sincere. But truth be told, very few knew about Neuroblasena. I assumed that a certain war in a foreign country dominated the news headlines.

Zanne put her head into her palms and let it rest there. "I had no choice. There's no job in Osea that covers for Neurablasena; it's so new. Regular insurance doesn't want to cover it…they'd just end up throwing money down the drain. There's no cure for it."

Just as she finished, Charles' head snapped up at the sight of our platoon commander. Everyone followed suit.

"Oh, snap. LT Finch's at nine o'clock. I'm out." Charles said, quickly walking away.

"The hell with this!" Jason said. Everyone began to scatter as soon as Finch pranced up next to our foxhole.

"Black, King, what's the word?" he said.

I smiled and raised my canteen. "Nothing, sir. Just giving the reporter ammo for her book and enjoying the fireworks."

There were more distant explosions. "Recon's tearing Baquenta to pieces. I wish we were in there." Finch said.

I continued, "Sir, I wish we could stay here and ride out the war in peace. There is a part of me that likes sitting back and letting others do the work. That's how this war should be fought."

Finch paused. "Is there anything you wish to discuss? I'm trying to clear the air in the platoon. There's a lot of discontent."

The fact he realized it at that point was enough to make me angry and humored at the same time.

"If there's anything you'd like to say, please don't feel constrained. Speak freely." He continued.

Then I thought, there was one matter that needed discussion. I could hold him hostage. "There is a matter I wish to speak on…in private."

I walked with him to an area far enough away from our camp to speak privately. We were near the patches of dead trees to our left. I wondered what the real purpose of this was. Maybe he read my mind when I thought he was a complete idiot.

"Sir, why did you fire on that vehicle in Kazar? You could have been lit up by someone thinking it was enemy fire." I asked.

Finch paced away from me, then approached me. "I admit…I made a mistake back there. It wasn't without precedent. The enemy has been using cars as weapons; car bombs, technicals or gun carrying vehicles. This has mostly been on the insurgents and the last thing I want is million dollar equipment and professionals getting smoked by a ten thousand dollar vehicle with a bomb on it. Losing to these backwards animals is bad enough. The Soma…what kind of name is that?"

"Sir, what exactly do you have against the Yukes? My sister's a Yuke…is she a backwards animal too? Are all the Hazri responsible for all this?" I said, my hands outstretched to the surrounding wasteland.

Finch put on a scowl. "I could care less about these people. They did this to themselves. They're the reason my family's a mess. They ruined it all before I was born. You're the only person who'll know this, Lance Corporal. Most of the people in this platoon are too stupid to get it."

"What? Sir, what are you talking about?" I asked.

Finch chuckled. "Well, people like you are the exception. You and King…Corporal Sosebee, Sergeant Craft, _maybe _PFC Southerland, but that's it. The rest? I'm surrounded by nothing but people I'd never associate myself with in a million years outside the corps."

I was shocked. I didn't think he thought highly of me at all. I thought he treated us like kindergartners. However, that did not excuse his attitude.

Finch rambled on, "Of course everybody hates me. I've made mistakes and I've said some things that were uncalled for…but considering the people I'm dealing with its almost expected. I've got these idiots to nurse; a bunch of liars, weirdos and hypocrites, criminals…the dregs of society all lumped into this one company. Where people like you and me deserve better."

I tried to speak, but Finch wouldn't let me get a word in.

"_How_ did this happen? I was trained for intelligence. I was tapped for Recon…but I…they scratched me before the school even started. Then I come home and find my wife with another man…and have the nerve to blame me!" Finch said. I wondered if he was really talking to himself.

"I thought you went through the academy." I said.

"I did…sort of. I entered into Annapolis' Advanced Degree program in my third year of college. Afterwards, I joined a class that was two years from graduating. It was this new program, one of many new ones initiated by the president." Finch continued. At least for the moment, he was still lucid.

"What you're saying sir…is rather elitist, wouldn't you say?" I said.

"I wish the Yukes hadn't given me a reason to hate them." Finch said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"They killed me and my sister's father. My mother claimed she was a battered wife. My father, this guy named James Sedgwick, was a dirtbag and she had an affair with a rather…infamous Osean pilot. Or so she said…"

I paused. The name did sound familiar. James Sedgwick…it couldn't be! But given the story, it wasn't that valid a reason to hate all the Yukes. None of his story had anything to do with the Soma. It was about unrelated stuff.

"She hid the truth from me for so many years. It turned out her husband wasn't the evil man she claimed to be. He was a good man but my mother fell in love with another gentleman. A rather famous gentleman near Sand Island District…"

"Huh?" I said, confused. Now I was angry.

"She was infatuated with him. But she lied to me about my real father. The man I thought was my father, this James Sedwick, cared about my mom, but she was in love with a man her husband could never be. A hero. A true hero."

"I wanted to be a hero, sir." I added out of turn. It was more of a scoff, a backhanded statement to try to get one word in.

He continued on, as if I wasn't even there. "November 28, 2010. That was when it happened. They were on a one day leave. His squadron mates had no idea where he'd gone. He never told anyone about her, not even his flight lead…his best friend. He came back a few hours later after meeting my mother in a bar that evening. After that day, they were set to go on another mission in Yuktobania. November 29th it was, and he took off with his squadron but was diverted to November City. He never returned from the skies."

I couldn't _believe_ what he was saying. What he was referencing...was he _really_ the child of one of my father's wingmen; this…Davenport guy? That was impossible. I couldn't believe it. I shook my head in disbelief.

_Is Finch making up stuff?_

"Sir, are you suggesting that…"

"Oh, shit! I forgot. I was supposed to give this to Corporal King." He said, handing me an envelope. "I gotta get back to Company. Sorry we couldn't continue this conversation. Just remember what I said."

Finch walked off right after that. I was confused. I was left standing there with an envelope in my hand looking like an idiot.

_What __**did**__ he say? _

_What message did he have?_

All I knew was the insinuation that Lieutenant Finch was a bastard child of my father's dead friend and wingmate. But the pieces fit! James Sedgwick _was_ Rachel's adoptive father, and her adoptive parents did come from November City to Akerson Hill. The _same_ James Sedgwick; he owned a chain of software stores. The _same _Rachel Sedgwick my brother's friend was married to, and was due to give birth in less than two weeks. The man Rachel was going to name her son after!

_Amazing_, I thought. The only thing I knew was that I wasn't going to see Finch the same way again. But, his childhood problems and daddy issues didn't justify his hatred of the Yukes. There was nothing about the Soma in his story. _Wait, _I thought_, hmm…Davenport, Sedgwick, mother on deathbed, academy, nope…nothing about the Soma. _

I walked over to Xanthia who was just sitting in the foxhole not doing much but watching the destruction up ahead. Lillian was on the other side of the humvee, listening to Carly South and Rebecca go at it in another one of their verbal spates. I gave Xanthia the manila envelope and sat down right next to her. I didn't ask any questions, but I looked to the left and saw her face twist and her lips tremble and quiver.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Derron's in the hospital. He's real sick." Xanthia said.

I couldn't speak at all. All I could muster was a deep gasp.

"It was an allergic reaction to all that medicine he's got to take just so he can see a little longer." Xanthia said. She could barely talk. "He's in a coma. I guess that old saying is right. If the disease doesn't kill him the medicine will."

The Xanthia started to cry and I didn't wait around to see if she needed any comfort. I just waltzed over and sat there beside her in our mutual fighting hole. She continued the tears for what felt like several minutes. It was almost bad enough to make _me_ cry. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I just sat there for a long few minutes. Then, Xanthia kept telling me to leave her alone. She kept wondering if her child was going to die. For a grim moment, I wondered it was inevitable.

I felt absolutely horrible but I honored her wish and left her alone for a few minutes. That was how my parents felt every time something happened to me or Brandon, or how they must have felt every night they watched the news and heard the bad stuff. I walked away from her and over to where Lillian was and overheard a most disturbing conversation. Jason was a fly on the wall, having come out of the crack of the abyss once Finch had disappeared again. Every time Rebecca said something he nodded his head which let me _further_ know how close they were. They acted as if it was a good thing.

_Rebecca: You know who she was dating when she had her son? Some kid who dealt crack in her community. Is she really surprised her son's screwed up?_

_Carly: Girl, that's just insensitive._

_Rebecca: She's got no one to blame but herself. I used to live near her, she was a mess. When did the Marine Corps start letting in crack whores? I won't be surprised if her next kid has four toes and three fingers._

_Carly: What is your problem? Do you just hate every other woman in the platoon? Are you jealous that Tasha might actually look better than you, hair or no hair?_

_Rebecca: Get the hell out of my face. Hell, now that I think about it...I was wrong about Xanthia's kid. His disease was probably __**your**__ fault. _

_Jason: Freaking New Girl…Jesus. _

I wanted to punch Rebecca in the face. I wanted to smack both of them, really. But upon hearing and absorbing PFC Southerland's rebuke of Rebecca at the expense of my personal humility, however much of _that_ was left, I thought that imitating my brother's fit of rage at Walt in boot camp was not the right course of action. But I knew the real Xanthia. Sure she'd made mistakes in the past, as we all did, but Zanne was a hard working person. Her mother busted her ass working two jobs when her father passed away. Zanne kept wanting me to go visit her family, but every time I wanted to fly to Rutherford something came up. Zanne joked about us possibly getting mugged in Rutherford, though. Funny thing about that; it was that kind of thing that started it off with Rico. It was strange keeping the entire thing a secret from my brother. Rico and I were my little secret.

Before I walked away, I encountered Lillian on the other side of the berm. She was scribbling notes, but seemed hesitant. I walked right by her.

"Hey, write this as you see it." I said as an after-the-fact. Lillian shook her head and tried to form a word or two, but couldn't get it out as I passed her.

I sat back down in the hole with Xanthia, who'd concluded the waterworks and just looked cheerless. Her head was at a slant, looking down at her left fingers playing in the dirt below. The distant combat continued as we sat there, our mood significantly changed from before. She was not looking at the picture anymore. Her face looked indifferent of my presence, but from her body language it was obvious she didn't want me to leave. One of her hands clung on to my arm, like she was a child grasping for her mother. I just let her rest her head on my shoulder for a moment and she pulled herself away and stared at the endless destruction in front of us.

As we sat there, the thought of Finch's words crept back into my mind. Perhaps I had to give the man more credit than he deserved. He was correct about the people in this company. Jason and Rebecca were exactly the type of people Finch talked about.

"Goddamn." I said.

"What?" asked Xanthia.

"I think…for only the _second_ time, Lieutenant Finch might actually be right about something." I said.

I still sat in the dirt with Xanthia, but neither of us felt like talking anymore. I didn't even want to sing, even in my head. All I could feel was the mixture of sadness and longing. Her I was, sitting with my _sister from another mother_, as a certain someone would say, and all I could do was to be there alongside her. And yet, all I wanted was to sit next to my brother like I was with Xanthia. All I wanted was Rico back in my arms and he could feel my lips, now dry and almost cracked from all the days of the wasteland's tour. The only things I had to hope for were those wishes. The only thing I could do was sit and wonder what else this war would take from us.

Next Chapter: The Voice of Madness


	13. The Voice of Madness

Chapter 13: The Voice of Madness

"_...nothing beside remains; round the decay, of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away." – Percy Bysshe Shelley_

**1800 hrs**

It was a long drive through the ruined city. The downtown had been turned into a boneyard of steel and skeletal remains. However, we moved up the eastern road from Baquenta into the northern edge of the city. From what we knew, the Soma's army had been scattered to the winds; however, we knew they were only regrouping and were ready for a counter attack. But the primary concern for us was this Apache Lady. 1st Marines were in the process of sweeping the area for signs of the bitch. We knew she was a pretty revolting personality who enjoyed torturing people, no matter if they were Osean, Yuke or even Hazri. But from the looks of things, this Apache was a Yuke regular.

I often wondered what motivation existed for the Faction to defect. I figured the economic recession had a lot to do with it. Weeks before the Soma revolted, Sueltana mentioned there were people who worked almost for free. The newspaper Sueltana worked for went belly up just days before I left boot camp. I remembered the day Sueltana was going to leave Cinigrad. It was the weekend and my mother was involved in a bizarre three way conference call involving two cell phones and her regular phone. Lillian, Sueltana and I were talking to my mom over a speakerphone almost at once. I was arranging for Dulcinea to meet my parents. Sueltana was trying to get a flight out, but the snows were brutal. Lillian wasn't actually involved; rather, she was to tell my mother about some woman she met, who turned out to be Helena Southerland. Not long after that, the Soma launched their coup on Cinigrad. And so it went…

"Werewolf Alpha to all Werewolf victors, 1st Marines made a sweep of the plantation area and found no sign of the Apache. They did find a lab similar to the one we found in Baquenta, with no people inside the tubes. They did find a specific list of targets, but it's not the same one we saw. It was only Yuke citizens." said Captain Morrison.

Chapman shook his head. The others either shook our heads or sighed with exasperation. My head went into my palm. I had to give the Dogmen credit; they were slippery war criminals. I supposed you had to be when your hobbies included torturing people for fun.

"This is Juliet 1 to Juliet 3, they'll be a right turn up ahead. It should take us into the Magnis district." MacGruber said, "Watch your sectors, we'll have friendly units on our nine and ten o'clock."

Teller was still driving the lead vehicle of our team. But due to some strange scheduling or whatever, Sheck's vehicle was right in front of us. I hadn't talked too much to Sheckenhousen since I was put on Team 3, but I knew he was doing his same old thing: leading with the bitter, angry, sardonic methods he often had. I dropped one of the pictures I had on the ground, just as Adrian looked in my direction.

"Still sneaking pictures of the family, Brandon?"

"Shut up, Adrian." I said.

"Dude, I was just playing. They're coming after all of us now. This stuff is wrong, yo. I never thought they'd be coming after a brother." he said. Wash kinda chuckled and I just stared at Adrian.

I was tired of the facade, and so too was Alphonso, "Lance Corporal, you're white…okay? Can you just accept it? I know you worship the rap artists like gods, but give it a rest would you?"

"We need some individuality up in this bitch. Besides Sergeant, I know for a fact you're not all what you say you are."

Just about everyone turned back to Adrian and Alphonso was incredulous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, all this stuff you know about the Hazri and whatnot…you ain't one of them, are you?" he said.

"Does it matter?" Alphonso said.

For once, Adrian dropped the ghetto talk, "I just find it fascinating you know so much about it. I mean, most of us are smart people...but it's like you got the encyclopedia on their culture and whatnot."

Alphonso replied, "Well, _someone_ had to do their homework before they came here."

I started laughing. "Man, I gotta remind myself to get you a autographed copy of Izzo's books, Sergeant. You just love spilling out the Lillian-isms."

"It must be nice to have some cool parents. My mom's dull as hell. When she's not working, all she does is sit around, get drunk, smoke and watch TV." said Chapman.

There was a long pause from Alphonso, and then he laughed for no reason. He turned to Adrian and laughed maniacally. Finally, after a sea of dumbfounded faces he said, "I _am_ a Jaair Yuke by birth. Does that answer your question Lance Corporal Abernathy?"

We were still in motion, but it seemed as if everything came to a stop inside our vehicle. We all exchanged confused looks as Alphonso continued to laugh.

"What? Man, I wasn't expecting you to admit it!" Adrian responded.

Adair quickly responded, "I grew up in Sapin of course, but my mother was a full blooded Jaair. She, at 17, was arranged to be married to this abusive man from a rich family. My mother politely said _hell no _to that. She ran with only the clothes she had on her back. She ended up in this refugee smuggling ring and wound up on the Eastern Hemisphere. She wandered with these others as migrant workers doing whatever they could to eat. She ended up in Palo Asu, Sapin, doing gardening work for this guy on the brink of a divorce. She earned a general diploma while she carried me, went to college and majored in computer science. You guys can fill in the rest."

I suspected I should've been shocked, but I was not; not at all. It certainly explained where Alphonso got his information. He already had an inside track. All the pieces fit. It also explained Alphonso's choice of soon-to-be wife material. No wonder Kate would be so comfortable marring a Catholic. However, the axiom was ironic since Kate's mother was just intolerable. Though I imagine Kate would have been happy if they'd moved back to Sapin, but she probably didn't want to learn another language.

Most Jaair Yukes weren't polyglots or where overly sophisticated. Some probably had suspected Alphonso wasn't all what he said he was. Alphonso Adair as a Jaair, to some of the sea of faces, was one of those things that were true, but no one had any logical answers outside the story.

Though it wouldn't apply to anyone in our LARA, most people in the company didn't like Alphonso. Hoot just thought he was annoying at times. But many of the guys thought the Sergeant was either a _pretentious, bible thumping prick_ (as per Rico), or a _complete lying-ass socialist_ (as per Eric), or an _overeducated, officer ass-kissing, homosexual_ (as per Walt).

To be honest, I didn't mind that much. At least he was on our side. Not to mention the enemy was hunting him as well. No one really had a reason to question his loyalty and if they did, they were idiots.

"That's an admirable tale, Sergeant. It's much more storybook than Corporal Black's relationship story. After all, didn't Duclinea end up in jail because she crashed your car into a sidewalk, and drunk as a skunk to boot?" Wash added.

I shook my head and turned it to Demetrius for only a second, "No, it was her car and I was standing right there outside the nightclub. Micho and I used fake IDs to get in and we almost got taken downtown too, but they didn't make us do field sobriety." I said, recalling the event with precision, "Then, she staggered out of the car and fell on the sidewalk. She had on this really short skirt and pretty much exposed to the world, if you catch my drift. The cops come and she walks up to officers and goes, _do you know who I am_?!"

I'd told the story many times. It was to the point where the entire thing was laughable. "Her friend and I bailed her out and while we were heading home in the car, we ran over someone else's cat. Dulcinea was still hung over and she puked all over my shoes." I continued, "After that, she ends up in court ordered rehab…"

While we were talking, MacGruber was on the radio net as we prepared to make the next turn. To our left was the route back to MSR Saccamano. Then, as I almost finished, the entire convoy began to slow.

"Damn." MacGruber said, "Halt the vehicle. We got a change of orders. We're heading west along MSR Saccamano."

The company formation slowed to a stop and Chapman was clearly frustrated. "Again? What gives, sir?"

MacGruber got out the maps and Alphonso looked over his shoulder pointing out another route. "We're going to screen RCT-2's movement as they enter the Northern Heights and draw for ambushes. Then we're setting up at the tip of MSR Saccamano and set up a roadblock. For all intents and purposes, this city belongs to us."

"Either the Soma's soldiers were just incompetent or it felt too easy." said Wash.

"Tell that to RCT-2. They took a beating downtown." MacGruber replied.

I knew that too well. I saw the constant smoke from the middle of Severja. I looked to the left and saw only waste and one damaged shack after another. The desolate landscape seemed almost impossible to repair. Not even the rain made anything grow. The rise past the northern edge of the city took us into Mogani, a place Suzie said was nothing but arable land surrounded by a suburb. At least 700 to 800 meters away there was a rise in the terrain, a 120 meter hill leading down to a depression where there was nothing but farmland. The only major road was MSR Saccamano and it led into the edge of the suburb and split into two roads. The road leading into the suburb and the east was now christened MSR Morty. Morty was a dead end and our orders were to block off the main road past the hill. We'd camp near the rise in the hill and set up two blocks. OP 1 would be the first and the main camp would be the second. We'd dig fighting holes near the top and bottom of the rise, just as we'd done everywhere else. It seemed an inglorious assignment, but Werewolf was officially the northernmost unit in the war. If the Dogmen or the Faction came after anyone, it'd be us.

We passed into the Mogani area and were greeted by many different people in the area. Some were robed, and some had on designer clothes. There were even two teenage girls that were totally out of place. They were in miniskirts and high wedge shoes; one blew us kisses and the other was sticking her tongue through her index and middle fingers. It was flattering at first, but they couldn't have been more than sixteen. I guess Marco was turning blue. It seemed strange though. I knew that three years ago, most of us in the company were the same age those girls were. We'd be back in high school joking with friends, dodging bullies and struggling with homework. These girls…it was obvious what they wanted. If they were anymore emaciated, they'd look like Osean runway models.

"Why are they waving at us? They're probably the same people who tried to kill us in Baquenta." Adrian said.

"Enjoy the moment would you, Lance Corporal?" I said.

"What's there to enjoy? This place is dead, yo. And just about everybody up in here on the Dogmen's hit list for some mad scientist trip." Adrian said.

It was funny. No one mentioned Alphonso's secret again. That was the way it was in the military. Some things just became old news real quick.

***

But then again, some things became new news real quick. Rico did enough of that on his own.

We set up at the base of the hill. Typical operating procedure: set up cammie nets, dig fighting holes, put up the concertina barbed wire, get our watch percentage and assign watch duty. I got stuck with Alphonso, Wash and Abernathy at OP 1. You never wanted to be in the OP. It was the most boring job and the most dangerous. It was best to be stuck with people you didn't know well. That way, at least you could learn something new. But eventually, you learn entirely too much about everyone one in the company. But that was life in the Marine Corps.

We moved up to the top of the hill, ten of us in the line. Rico was to the far left and we climbed over a few dead Soma soldiers. We didn't know or care why they were here. Each step brought us closer to victory.

"Keep a two to three meter spread. Stay in a line." MacGruber said, directing the movement.

For whatever reason, Alphonso quoted, "And so the darkness will come to the plains and the grass shall be burned by the birds of shadow."

MacGruber then spoke up. It seemed a bit awkward at first, because the LT had not expressed much displeasure in anything until, "Are you quoting the bible _again_ Sergeant? I fail to see how any of that applies now."

Alphonso said. "The more I think about it, the more it was right about this place."

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked. We reached the top of the hill and saw nothing but the vast land that used to be farms. We set up another group of claymores and anti-tank mines along the road. Alphonso droned on about his studies and few in the group knew about his…past. Sheckenhousen was there as well to set up his OP 2 on the other side of the road. I could tell Sheck hadn't heard Alphonso in awhile since he rolled his eyes and smirked every time Alphonso said something. However, this time no one stopped him.

"…in the last books of the First Testament, before the Reformation in the Second, the Word talks about the destruction of the Hazri's Kingdom by the Tatars. The Hazri have their own version of that book. They speak of retribution and justice through these prophesies of the Apocalypse; their own version of Revelations. In it, they speak of the land turning into desert. The parallels are shocking if you sat down and…"

Cameron then interrupted with, "What's Rico doing?"

I turned my back and saw something to make me cringe. Rico was standing on top of one of the enemy corpses and performed dominating, almost pseudo-sexual acts on the body. I hated the enemy with a deep passion. They were the reason Lucy Devia was without a tongue and Sueltana was in some concentration camp-like laboratory and who knew if she was alive or dead.

But there was a reason why such acts were looked down on by Marines. All Marines hated the enemy, but the Marines were taught to be above the enemy and show class. This was most bush league thing I'd ever seen from Rico. It was one thing when Walt was talking trash to the dead. That was bad enough, but there were no officers around when he did it and even he had to stop himself. Rico didn't even care that senior NCOs and officers were present. Now, to be honest, there were times where I contemplated disrespecting the enemy. However, I did it in my head. Never did I reciprocate these actions.

"Yeah! How you like that?! You're not talking now aren't you, boy? You're not talking now!" he shouted.

Cameron ran over to him. "Rico! Calm down! What gives man?"

Rico tore himself away from Cameron and the body. "To hell with this! I just want to wash my hands of the situation here."

I was sure I looked into the eyes of a man apart. Something had snapped in him; the very fiber of his mind had rotted over the days in the Yuktobanian wasteland. It wasn't _just_ Rico playing Tasha like a fiddle. No, this was worse.

Sheck walked over and nearly knocked him to the ground, MacGruber was in tow as well. "What is your problem, Corporal!?"

Rico's clipped voice came out in half laughter. "I just don't care anymore, sir. This country's driving me nuts. We'll be here for years trying to straighten this out. I'm tired of fighting someone else's war. I'm tired to Tasha, and her dumbass brother over here and Mr. Preacher-Historian and his history lessons that mean _nothing_!"

Rico had a large gesture for this land: a proverbial middle finger to everything and everyone he fought and believed in at one point. It was as if he was the only person that mattered. It was one thing to lose it over Tasha, as bad as that scene was. The absurdities of the Marine Corps were often amusing. The absurdities of our enemies were often scary. Rico's actions were scary on a level no soldier should ever have been.

Alphonso snapped and grabbed Rico and pulled him further towards him. "Rico! Shut up! That's enough! What happened to you?"

Rico then tore himself away and gave Alphonso the middle finger. He spit on the ground. "This country happened to me. It's all a joke. The only thing that isn't annoying is death. I never get enough of that."

Rico then walked back towards his hole, the entire group stunned by the behavior. Walt then walked up to me and stood for a few minutes, "Dude, I wonder how Tash is going to react to this. I mean, assuming you tell her."

I didn't have an answer. Tasha deserved to know the truth, but not then. A flood of hatred swept over me but I hid it well. "I don't know."

Walt tapped me on the shoulder and lowered his voice to a whisper, "But just between you and me, if that asshole gets killed Tasha'd be better off not knowing. I don't know what's gotten into him…but ever since he's been in country he's getting more and more unglued, brother. He's gone twisted. You see that look in his eyes. He's gone, man."

Walt walked away and I stared at the vast, desolate land. Perhaps the best way to describe Rico's fury was the horizon. There seemed nothing but a void in him. The entire land in front of me was a hideous void. I would have better luck finding beauty in a black hole. It certainly seemed to match the ugliness in Rico's soul. There was a sick part of me that wanted Rico gone. I didn't feel guilty about it because of his words to me. He didn't care if I or my sister died. Chapman's instincts were dead on.

In the distance, there were an unknown number of enemy soldiers out there. They'd been soundly beaten in Severja. However, they had no intention of giving up. The Soma knew nothing of surrender. The Yuke hard-line faction, the defectors, hadn't packed it in either. They knew if the Loyalists defeated them, they'd all be jailed or executed for treason. Surely, they couldn't allow that.

Next would be the campaign into Upper Gublina and the curve into Jilachi. All we had to do was seize the derelict ruins of Cruik Fortress and the Psel Causeway, strike into downtown Cinigrad, then turn north and join the Army and the Third and Fourth Marine Divisions in the campaign into the Hazri Highlands. That was the war. It seemed simple but even after only a few days in country, I knew enough to know that simple plan was filled with complexities up the wazoo. I turned my head and read the lips and listened to the winds of the team leaders.

_Alphonso: Sir, I think Rico needs to be off this team. _

_Sheck: I've seen this before even in peacetime. He's got a screw loose and when people lose a screw, that's when they or other people get killed. It's happened in training, it's happened in the rear…_

_MacGruber: I don't think Captain's going to let this fly, we need his skills._

_Sheck: Rico's replaceable. Dickerson knows him pretty good. I say we swap Tristan for Rico._

_Alphonso: Addition by lateral movement, good idea as always Sheck. Sir, as your assistant team leader I suggest we should trade Rico for Tristan. _

_MacGruber: Fine, we'll swap him when we get orders to move out again._

I could only wonder how Tasha would react to this, assuming of course she had _actual_ leadership like my company. I went back to digging my hole at the top of the hill. Wash and Abernathy were making their usual field sketches of the area. Alphonso was helping Cameron take down the camo nets. Walt was picking rocks out of his fighting hole. Sheckenhousen was over to the far left issuing orders to his team, his hand stretching out to where Dickerson ordered them to set up. And far to our right lay the outlying suburbs, strangely untouched by the war. The Hazri lived there now, their lives simple and almost ignorant of the war around them. And yet, deep in their minds laid uncertainty. I knew they were still on the fence. Still, these were not the civilians in that camp. I kept saying it, trying to make it true.

Then there was Sueltana and her husband. They were still out there in the wastes. I rarely knew or saw Jakob. However, irrelevant of his drinking habits or his carefree attitude, he was a good man. He was a wonderful dad to Lucy. When Lucia was little and whenever she'd visit my parents' house, she often talked about how much she missed her dad and that scruffy beard he had. Sueltana was always wonderful. I never forgot the time Sueltana played the piano for my mother on her fortieth birthday, and my father, Cormorance Alou, Ally Bohr and Lillian Izzo all sang that dated "I Always Meant to Love You" number from the 1940s. I began to lose hope she was alive though.

And my dear sister was out there, her eyes red from many hours without sleep ignorant of Rico's true colors. Ignorant of the terrors I'd seen; ignorant of the fact she was a _target_. I kept going back to that picture of us at the beach. I wanted to plant a kiss on her forehead, just to let her know it was going to be all right. I wanted to make sure she was safe and not have to worry about anything else. As far as I knew, I was the only other person in Yuktobania that _actually_ loved Tasha.

Then I thought of Duclinea. I'd entertained thoughts of spending a life with her. That seemed far away as I stood there, but it was obvious that day would come eventually. It no longer seemed like an impossible dream. And standing there at the edge of the hill, it reminded me of Cara's Cove on that beautiful July day. The sun was overhead but it wasn't boiling hot. The beach had its usual white sand and the air was sweet. All I could remember was her light amber skin. It was so warm and Duclinea smelled like she'd floated through a field of strawberries.

At that point, I would have given anything for any field other than the desolate hell of the Yuktobanian Wastes.

But one thing was clear. The world would go on with our without Rico Lazarus. All I had to do was stop caring about him. I then wished everyone in the company would do the same. Apparently, Rico _never_ cared. It was a joke to him. He was only in it for the thrills and the blood; not unlike Walt. At least I knew what Walter Snow was all along. I had no idea who Rico Lazarus truly was anymore. And I didn't care either.

***

**2300 hrs**

The newest upgrade to the SWS (Sniper Weapon System) was the M40A13 Series. The weapon didn't look that dramatically different from the old M40A3 or A5 series. The only difference was the advanced scope that was a day-night scope built into one. There were no night vision appendages to attach to the regular scope. Also, the smaller, Gransi ember lens gave the same field of vision as the older lenses and the glass was advanced and tactical enough that there was no need to put the coverings with holes cut in it to keep the enemy from seeing the reflected light from the scope. This was what made the Power Recon snipers so deadly. It was the second hour into our watch and Adair, Demetrius and Adrian were stuck with me on the road overwatch.

"How did that passage go? Like with the Hazri's end and everything?" Wash asked.

"Let me find it," Alphonso said. He dug around in his pack for the holy book and turned it towards the middle. He placed it on his lap and with a IR flashlight he shined it on the page in question. "Ah, here we go. _And from the mouths of pestilence there will be one voice of madness. A great evil will corrupt the infidels. The darkness will twist the souls of their people and will turn them into monsters. The beasts will obey the commands of the Hazri. Only those who are written into the book of Life shall be spared."_

"And here…it says: the deserts of the low kingdoms shall engulf the world in its coarse sand. The beast shall fight the dragons of the world and those fire demons shall be destroyed. The beasts will spread the pestilence unto the lands, poisoning them and never again shall they be lived upon." He said.

"Gee, I wonder what the Hazri think of _us_." I said.

"They can think whatever they want. If they even dream about taking over the world they better wake up and apologize." Wash said.

"Two times." Adrian said. I had no idea what the heck he meant.

The most important component of a sniper team was the spotter. They called wind direction and target location. A bad spotter was worth a body bag. Sometimes it was easy to forget Adrian was good at what he did on the account of his racial identity crisis. I was pretty accurate with a gun, but not on their level.

Growing up in Alaska, it was impossible to not have any contact with firearms. I learned the trade from my parents and a few others like Cormorance Alou, Mrs. Bohr's husband Charles, and Bryce Bennington. This guy, Bryce Bennington, was an avid outdoors man. I guessed it was no surprise that he owned a lumber yard. Bryce was good friends with my father. In ye olden days, my father knew him from the aircraft carrier Kestrel. See, Bryce was one of those many unsung heroes of the 2010 war. He was a very young mechanic on the ship.

He taught me how to hold your breath before a shot and to focus; to clear everything from my mind. My dad took me and Tasha on a hunting trip when we were ten years old. Tasha couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, but the next day I got my turn. On a day where it was twenty five degrees, I took my father's Remington. Through chattering teeth, shaking nerves and my pre-adolescent male impulses fighting my central nervous system, I put the scope on a twelve point buck and poleaxed him. That deer's death was everything to me and Tasha, who tried to take her share of the credit. Of course, she had on her pink boots and pink bubble coat so she had no business trying to claim my kill anyway. Of course, my sister stopped that real quickly when my dad and Mr. Bennington went into the nauseating phase of field dressing. But it was the success and the sole, unrelenting killer's focus that Bryce beat into my head.

I wondered if that was what Demetrius and Adrian dreamed about: that one perfect shot Though Wash's expertise with field craft and precision shooting wasn't indicative of his childhood in Oured's ghettos. Though it was indicative of the mutual respect Wash and Adrian had for each other.

While they expressed concern over the enemy targeting them, I knew they didn't care. Even more, they welcomed it. They liked the idea of playing hunter and prey.

"Sergeant, I don't know how word got to Rico you're really one of the Jaair or whatever. But he was going off. _No wonder that jerk knew all that stuff about the Hazri. Hazri traitor! Sapin immigrant, my ass_ and all that crap."

"Well, we won't have to worry about him too much longer." Alphonso said.

"Could you imagine what Kate's mother would do if she found out?" Wash said. "She'd go crazier than Eric the Red at a strip club."

Alphonso replied, "That's being kind. She'd put Kate in the Witness Protection Program."

I added. "And Kate knows right, Sergeant?"

"Yes. And I told her point blank when the war started I had nothing to do with these animals," said Alphonso, visibly angry, "Poor Katie. She said she wasn't too worried about me. She was just worried how it would affect our future children. I guess it was because she was picked on so much when she was a kid and her mother was a shallow, anorexic bitch but…"

Wash laughed, "Well, Jesus boy's decided to talk dirty, huh?"

Alphonso smirked in the darkness, "Well, I am an imperfect human. We make mistakes."

"Then let us pray." Wash said. "Praise the lord and pass the 7.62 ammo."

We all laughed. Then, after a long period of silence, Alphonso went off on a tangent that was just stranger than anything I'd heard him talk about.

"I thought I was made for war. The conscious, disciplined, honorable soldier who protected those who couldn't fight back and I'd also be the one who respected and feared those who could." Alphonso said after the long pause, "but those values have been replaced by money and technology. Two things God had no hand in."

"You make it seem like this war will never end." I answered him.

"That's the problem, Brandon. Nothing ever really ends." He said.

Now I was pissed, "You sound like my mother. What's next? You're going to trash Hephaestus, too?"

"No, my issue isn't solely with Corporate Osea. I thought this war would end someday. Lieutenant Dickerson talked to me about re-upping my commitment time. My non-active period duty starts when I leave this country. I can run out the clock to civilian life or maybe even enroll in an officer's candidate school."

"If there's one person who needs to be an officer, it's you. Maybe you can go to my sister's company and restore her faith in the yellow bars." I said.

"No. I'm getting out as soon as I get back. This war will never end or if it does, we're going to wish we'd never come here." Alphonso said.

I was furious. "I don't care how it ends. I just want the people I care about to be okay. I'm worried about my parents though. There's this guy going around our neighborhood and breaking into people's houses…"

"You're a liar Brandon," Alphonso said, "You're the worst kind of idealist, the kind who carefully hides his intentions. The thing is, your sister is still out there and Dulcinea is still a prisoner of the Soma. This war won't end for you until they're safe."

He read me like an open book. We sat there for a long moment as I pondered Alphonso's words. The only thing I could do was to wait.

As I thought that, there was an explosion in the distance. We didn't think much of it. There'd been plenty of explosions to go around, not to mention the blasts to the far west. We knew everyone in the low area thought that as well. I wasn't sure if it was a random mortar round or an IED of some kind. The next blasts, however, were _not_ random. It started near the camp below. Alphonso and I turned our heads to the action. The sound had been low and deep for an explosion. It didn't _sound_ like a mortar round.

"What was that?" Wash asked.

Before he could get on the radio however, three more blasts entered my ears. This one was from the little suburb near our area. It was about 900 meters from us. I ranged out the scope on my rifle to 9x and switched the vision to IR. I had it on the black hot setting and I saw the small plumes of black smoke along the very same road we used to enter this place. The people around them ran for their lives. Any doubt about the people there was removed. They weren't the enemy.

"Kinda late for an IED, wouldn't you think?" I said.

MacGruber came on the net, "This is Juliet 01 to 02. We have a possible chemical attack in the general area. Maintain overwatch for now."

"Roger." Alphonso replied.

"Chemical attack? Can they be more unoriginal, dog?" said Wash.

While I wondered why Wash would be critical of the enemy at a time like that, another burst shook the ground some 20 meters from our position. It wasn't too loud, but it was enough to knock us around.

"Incoming!" said Alphonso. He began sending the information to command below. A chemical weapon delivered by artillery and indirect fire was nothing new. But it wasn't something to shake a finger at. I quickly looked through the scope and saw all the activity below. There was plenty of yelling and cursing. Then three more blasts, "We're getting accurate mortar fire. We're pulling out!"

As we prepared to run, I could see this thick haze. It could've been a low thundercloud. One minute, the night was clear; the next, everything was shaded around us. The stars were choked out and the night sky became smog's paradise. This was _not_ smoke. However, we were safe since our helmets were on. But to the elements of First Marines on the left flank…that was another story.

There was another explosion. That time, the blast was loud and only a dozen meters from me. The impact came with a bright flash and it washed out my NVG set. Through instinct, I turned my head and closed my eyes to brace for the impact my sixth sense knew was imminent. I collapsed to the ground with the concussion, felt and heard glass shatter, and my face felt like flames licked the skin. I felt a wet sensation as I hit the ground; a tearful sensation that didn't come from my eyes.

I was still alive, but I could feel both the slashed pain along my cheek and nose. Air from the outside world rushed into my nose. It was the smell of metal and ice. I opened my eyes and the protective glass was shattered, my helmet now a collector of chemical agents.

In the old days, you had atrophine injectors or AI packs. You shot them into your heart in case of a chemical or biological attack: nerve agents to fight nerve agents. Since most chem-attacks produced casualties real quick, you only had seconds to act. Every boot Marine knew you had nine seconds to employ AI countermeasures or you were done.

Power Recon had the new Atronazolophine pill pack. Atronazolophine, or AZ, was an upgrade to the AI pack. It was a liquid pill you bit to crush open, and then swallowed the innards to inoculate yourself against most chemical agents. Keyword: most.

Most marines thought it tasted like cough syrup. I thought it tasted like that nasty light molasses my father liked so much. It was rumored Seelow Rot told the AZ pill pack to go fornicate itself. I didn't care. But, it never occurred to me that the time period had been _longer_ than nine seconds. I didn't taste the molasses. I couldn't taste anything.

The world started spinning. There was a haze and everything was clear for a moment, then everything became a series of shadows. I realized I was in a predicament so I picked myself off the ground and staggered around to find my bearings. However, by that time Alphonso ran over to me.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Brandon? Did you take the pills?"

"Yeah." I said, "Man, I'm dizzy. I'm _so_ dizzy."

I laughed. I sounded like Dulcinea for a moment. I laughed like a school girl. _What was wrong with me?_ I tried to run back with the others, but my movement was like that of some North Point drunkard leaving the bar after a fight. Alphonso grabbed hold of me and everything I saw became a series of shadows, shapes and weird colors.

"There's all these pretty colors." I said. I wasn't lucid anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alphonso said. _How was I supposed to know?_

"He must have ingested some of that gas. We need to get him to Doc Gray." said Wash.

"Gray…I'm seeing blue, red…no gray."

I stumbled along with Alphonso and I nearly fell over twice. My brain was loose and the hallucinations continued. Or at least I thought they were hallucinations at the time. Then I became scared when I saw the ground opening and closing. I wasn't used to the idea of rocks turning into snakes.

"Snakes everywhere! They're all inside the colors! It's messed up!" I said. I sounded like the frightened chick in a horror movie.

"Brandon's losing his mind! This ain't Seelow Rot!" said Wash.

Then something snapped inside my head. The area became clearer and the closer we got to camp, the more and more the colors began to fade. My brain was coming to its senses and was giving me a proverbial smack in the face. Finally, I managed to recover most of my lucid thinking as Alphonso set me down near one of the LARAs. My legs felt like octopus tentacles. I saw the _Sorle_ doctor come over to me, shining that white light of his into my eye.

"Talk to me, Black." He said, "You alright?"

"I miss the colors but, I'll be fine. I think. I don't know. I think." I said. My head was shaking and I became cold on the outside and hot on the inside.

To my left, I saw a few of the other guys restraining Rico. Rico's helmet glass was also shattered but he was in much worse shape than me. I guessed that part of my strange mindset under chemicals came back when I laughed at Rico's…antics. He was flailing about, screaming as Chapman and Cameron tried to hold him down. Through the psychotic ranting, I was able to pick out a few words.

"I'm going to die! We're going to die! I'm seeing all kinds of shadows and shapes! Dear god, man! Game over! Game over! We're going to die out here!" Rico shouted.

I laughed again as Gray poured disinfectant on the cuts and bandaged up my face. I had no idea how my face looked, but it couldn't have been too bad. I overheard Riba, MacGruber and Dickerson talking to Captain Morrison. I couldn't make out what they said at first, but…

"We've got chemical attacks all up and down our lines." Morrison said.

Desormeaux, Tristan, Patterson, Kramer and Cameron were all on the Harpoon guns. Patterson was in the turret right next to the LARA nearest to me. I got up off the ground as Micho walked over. Micho, however, was more interested in something past our lines. It seemed Patterson was interested in the same thing.

"Captain! I got a bunch of civilians at our eleven! Coming up the road!" he said.

Everyone began to run for their positions. I got up as well, much to Gray's chagrin, and stole Micho's thermal binoculars from him. There were about twelve of them walking outside the suburb. At first, they looked like the same shadows I saw before. I figured they were wounded from their gait.

"Hold your fire. It's those people from the town. They're probably looking for help." Morrison said.

"Sir…they're acting weird." Desormeaux said, "They're kinda shuffling about."

Then, the pack of people stopped in the middle of the road. They _stopped_. I couldn't figure out why they would stop. I saw more people behind them walking a faster progression to catch the lead pack. I saw all kinds of people with them: women, old men with walking sticks, middle aged men in hoods and robes and even children. But none of the families walked together. The rows of people were in even fours. It was some kind of freakish parade.

"What the hell's going on? There were only three small explosions in the area…where are they coming from?" Dickerson asked.

The large, splintered gathering finally joined together and paused for one long moment. No one near the roadblock knew what the hell was going on. In the background, Rico continued about his insane rants. No one paid him any attention. No one spoke as the people from Mogani resumed their march. As I got a closer look at them, none of them looked wounded. As they walked, others became jumpy.

"Hold your fire, but keep your guns up." ordered Captain Morrison.

"Do they have weapons? They got weapons, light 'em up!" said Teller.

Some of the younger soldiers shared this trigger happy mentality, a fact that wasn't lost on the junior officers. Walt raised his gun, but Dickerson quickly moved to shove it back down.

"No! Hold your fire!" Dickerson shouted.

I seriously did not expect the civilians to be a threat. I expected the threat to be _behind _us. I looked at Alphonso for some guidance. I expected him to be the voice of reason, to tell us that what they were doing was normal. _I'm sure the Soma do this all the time_, I thought Adair would say. But the Sergeant only had a look of complete puzzlement. His eyes were bulged and he pursed his lips beneath the mask he wore.

The civilians' lengthy walk started to raise a ton of eyebrows. They were in rows of four. There had to be hundreds of people.

Rico certainly had his own tirade to use, but no one cared. He was already insane; even more so from the chemicals. For whatever reason, I guessed my body took the hazards of war better than Lazarus. As Dickerson and Morrison looked on, my skin began to turn hot and cold again. I stood there, rubbing my skin against the UWS armor to alleviate the irritation. Then, voices came from the civilians. They had closed to within 300 meters of us and were speaking rather loud. They spoke in the usual Jaair dialect and each of their words were a chant; one in almost perfect sync. The leader, as I could see, was the one directing the chant. He wore one of those moronic fundamentalist robes. He was in a daze of some sort and led the cadence with the procession behind him repeating after his words.

"Manei, Sowa, Datei…Manei…"

"_Cry. Fear. Death. Cry." _They said.

"This is really freaky." Micho said, speaking for us all.

"Sir, this is some twisted stuff here. I think those people got weapons." Hoot said. "My concerns are reasonable, sir. They got a ton of robes on and I don't think they only got their members underneath."

"They're sure acting crazy." Adrian said, "Like they got some mind control going on."

_They_ sure acted like it. I walked closer to the action.

"Brandon! What are you doing?" Micho said.

There was this long lump in my throat. I remembered there was one time when I was nine, my mother and I watched a movie one late Saturday night. It was this classic 1950s black and white film known as _Survivor Island_ with Michael Airan, Jeremiah Hayes, Jodie Diesen and Elizabeth Blair. The film was about a group of shipwrecked people on a jungle island trying to survive. The climax of the movie was Airan and Hayes leading a group of people to battle the bloodthirsty tribal natives to save the well-endowed (for that time) pair of Jodie Diesen and Elizabeth Blair. The would-be damsels in distress looked on as the tribal chieftain led his warriors to battle. They marched in a slow cadence, chanting in a quick, loud cadence. Their faces were cold, their intentions murderous. Then, the chieftain, upon realizing that the heartthrob ace Michael Airan and the tough sidekick Jeremiah Hayes were on their turf, let out a fierce, animalistic shout.

The movie wasn't actually that violent and ended on a cliché happy note, but the scream from the chief scared the crap out of me.

So my mother laughs and puts her arms around me, "Don't be scared of that. There are scarier things out there than him. It's not even real."

I wasn't sure at the time if she was right.

"What is going on!?" I said.

My body locked up as the procession of people began to slow even more. Then, _in complete unison_, they stopped the second I came onto the line.

What followed was the leader, whoever he was, bellowed one hellish scream. It was a feral scream, a cry that equaled something worse than nails against the chalkboard and a dying cat combined. Then, everyone else followed suit. The entire parade screamed like wild animals. it was almost the same blood curdling scream from the tribal chieftain in _Survivor Island_. But I was not nine years old anymore. My mother wasn't there to tell me it'd be alright. For the first time in my life, I was truly scared as hell.

"Oh, shit." I said to myself. My body stopped shaking when the screams stopped all at once. Silence. Then...

All the civilians broke the cadence and ran right for our position. The men dug in their robes…and out came Ak-47s. The women and children had knives, pitchforks, backhoes…and automatic weapons themselves. It was just like the first encounter with the Dogmen all those days ago. They all began to take off and charge us. Their stomps like a herd of wild elephants. As they ran they screamed their chants and yelled curses at us, calling us infidels. They all ran as one big group; the coordinated predators focusing on one gazelle: us.

"They got weapons! Open fire!" Dickerson shouted.

Everyone opened up. Some were protesting though as they were kids in the company of people. But they too charged at us and the first wave of bodies fell almost instantly. I ran back to the LARA to get my rifle and as I came back to the line, the people were less than ninety meters from us! I stood there paralyzed, unable to process anything. The true scare wasn't the mass of nearly four hundred people running at us…it was the _speed_ in which they ran.

A normal human could run at least 20 to 23 miles per hour. The fastest person in Power Recon was actually Darius Measels from Raptor Company who could run a 4.19 forty yard dash. The civilians, now legit enemy…had to be running at least 30 to 33 miles per hour!

I couldn't fire. I couldn't fire as bodies spilled right in front of our position. No one else seemed to care too much. How could they? The cumulative enemy was bearing down on our position at almost _inhuman_ speed. I couldn't control myself anymore.

But they were legit targets. They had weapons. They were the enemy for all intents and purposes.

My body was boiling from head to toe. Finally, I just let out a predatory shout of my own and let loose with the bullets. I wasn't aiming at anyone in particular because I didn't want to kill some child that ran towards us with an Ak-74 or grenade.

Errant RPG rounds were flying over our heads, explosions and stray around skipped around us and the people, fervent and fearless, simply stepped on and over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Then one of them, leaped over the concertina wire to our three o'clock. Sheckenhousen put a single bullet in his head, then three more as I looked on; the body did almost a somersault in mid air and landed on the wire. The others also began jumping like animals.

"What is this, some kinda horror movie!?" Walt shouted.

"Marco!!" someone shouted. "RPG!"

An RPG round tore through the LARA and sent Marco flying out. He hit the ground as I turned and found one of the children struggling inside the concertina wire, the child being cut apart by the razor wire, but he still tried to raise a gun at me. A grenade went off right in front of us and killed the child. Whoever did it, I was thankful for it.

I hesitated for a mere moment and just when I did, three of them leaped over me and on top of Patterson, yanking him out of the turret and just before I could fire, one of them was killed by Micho, but he ran out of bullets. The two insurgents began _biting_ Patterson. They were biting him!

"Aaah! Aaaahh! Get him off…aaaggh!" Patterson screamed in the death lock.

Just as I fired back and killed the second guy…the third man on top of Patterson _tore_ his head off.

Tore his head _off_.

Tore. His. Head. Off.

The blood went everywhere. The third man was finally killed by someone else, I wasn't sure who though. Patterson's headless body fell limp into the LARA. By now, everyone was in FPF (final protective fire) mode, shooting everything they had. There was nothing in the training courses about this. Recon training did not include dealing with almost superhuman terrorist sympathizers. I guessed the FPF was the right course of action.

I was angry. I was furious. It was bad enough that we'd finally taken our first KIA. That was terrible in its own right. Poor guy had two girls. What were we supposed to tell his wife? _I'm sorry, but your husband had his head torn off by insane Jaair Yukes. _Were these people cannibals or something? The thought crossed my mind as the fusillade continued. Perhaps this was the intent of their attack. They were always inhuman…and perhaps they wanted us to feel the same way. The body count climbed through the intense, but increasingly one-sided firefight. Corpses piled high in front of the concertina wire. Our roadblock was filled with the mutilated bodies of people who cheered us on just hours earlier.

"Ozymandias forever! Death to infidels!" one of the insurgents cried, right before MacGruber took his head off with a 5.56. His voice sounded like a monster of some kind. I once thought those monsters lived under my bed when I was five years old. No more. These people had almost undergone a werewolf-like transformation underneath the moon above. Now they'd turned into literal monsters, beasts; what happened to these people?

_What did he mean by that anyway?_ I thought that quickly. I turned.

Then, as I _did_ think that, the insurgents in the rear…stopped in unison. Almost everyone stopped firing, incredulous at the scene. Finally, again they let out a harrowing scream…and they all fell to the ground in a twisted harmony. It took nearly fifteen minutes for the scene to come to fruition. It took only four to finish the terror. My heart took forever to slow down. I felt the beads of sweat drenching the bandages on my face.

"Oh, my God…" I said.

I looked at the macabre scene as the bodies were piled ten deep in front of us. There was nothing but silence. A long wind carried a smell of blood and it almost made me vomit. The blood no doubt soaked into the fabric of the arid ground; it was nature's poison.

_What a waste_, I thought.

"Everybody okay?" Captain Morrison asked. I thought it was a stupid question to ask. How _could_ we be alright? We'd been in the middle of a slasher movie come to life!

"No, but I'm fine." Alphonso said, a strange paradox of words.

Then it hit me.

_**And from the mouths of pestilence there will be one voice of madness. A great evil will corrupt the infidels. The darkness will twist the souls of their people and will turn them into monsters. The beasts will obey the commands of the Hazri.**_

_Beasts. Evil twisting men inside._ Now it made perfect sense…at first. Then after a moment, just after my heart had slowed down, I realized the passage really made _no _sense in our situation. This happened to the Hazri's _own_ people. And why did the people behind them fall dead for no apparent reason? None of it made any sense anymore.

Gray took me back to the area where Rico was. Unfortunately for me, the company and Tasha, Rico Lazarus had survived the firefight. He had no calmed down considerably. For the next thirty minutes, the company poured over the almost endless bodies. It was strangely similar to the time we poured over that battlefield in the Bayori Forest. We'd finished fighting the Dogmen's Armored Division troops and we did our BDA (battle damage assessment). Usually, a BDA didn't occur until morning. But the bizarre situation called for immediate answers. We picked up the remains of Patterson and zipped him up as some of the others stood around him. I walked over to the others as they put him on the cas-evac LARA, our first KIA. Our second was Sergeant Adams who was hit with a dead-on freak shot from an RPG. Teller picked his lifeless body up and put him in the bag. It seemed so strange. All these days in country and with all the action we'd seen we'd never lost a Marine. The only major casualties were Christenson, but he only lost part of his leg. Tristan and Eric had been wounded, but Tristan was back in the lineup and Eric the Red was due to return in a day's time.

Adams was not that well-liked, but he was missed. It didn't matter what we thought of him as we put him on that LARA and eventually into the flag-covered casket and a first class ticket on the _plane to nowhere_, the one flight out of the country no Marine wanted to take.

The wounded were Jackson from Team 2 and Marco Desormeaux, who broke both his legs after being hurled from the LARA by the RPG impact. The turret shield saved his life. His war was over. He'd be on a plane back home and somehow I figured that Tatiana would follow him. She'd "acquired" some cash and with a little help from the all-too cooperative Micho, she would hitch a ride back with some of the White Crow people scheduled to leave the country. It was strange though. I found I would miss Tatiana more than Marco. She had a real Lillian Izzo-thing going on. She'd often tell us about how she liked to write and hoped that someday she could write her own book. Then again, her alternate dream was to own a gothic nightclub in Oured, but I wasn't sure that Tatiana possessed enough common business sense to undertake that endeavor.

My helmet glass was still cracked and the bodies began to rot. The smell of death hit my nostrils. This was definitely not my parents' war. After the long wait, many LARAs drove up. They were filled with command personnel; _very_ high ranking command personnel. Then once again, there was that annoying Helena Sorenson. I didn't even bother asking why they were here. I knew why, my questions were: _Just who the hell was running this division? General Malleus or Helena Sorenson? Was the Department of Defense in charge or Corporate Osea?_

The Colonel stepped over several enemy corpses, amazed at what had happened. He looked furious and I knew why. He didn't have the full picture. But we engaged _legit targets_. They had weapons. It was by the ROE. But that didn't make it right? I shuddered at the image of the child caught in the barbed wire, his face…angry, beast-like. He was trying to kill me even though he was in the throes of death.

"What in God's name happened here?" Colonel Holland asked Captain Morrison.

"Sir." The Captain responded.

"Give me the situation." The Colonel asked.

Morrison was a man who often prided himself on being ready for any situation. This situation was so far outside the norm, even he had difficulty processing this report.

"Sir...to be honest. This has to be the strangest situation we've ever had. We were attacked with mortars, chemical weapons, and these people. We had two KIA from these people. They all marched out and attacked us with everything...even the kids." Morrison said.

Then, one of the other officers replied, "It's worse than I thought sir. This is happening all along the front lines."

"What?" the Captain said.

Just as Morrison said that, I heard the voice of Commander Bohr, "Have any of your men been affected?"

Morrison pointed to us. "I got two...over there."

Bohr turned to me and I could see her shake her head. She walked over to me. Her UWS suit creaked at the knees as she bent down and reached in her pack. She shined a flashlight into my eyes, what the hell she was looking for was beyond me.

"Goddamn it, kid. You just get yourself into all kinds of trouble, huh?" said Bohr. "Your mother would have five heart attacks simultaneously if she knew what you…"

Then, as she shined a light into my eyes, another man pushed her aside. I was shocked and Bohr was equally surprised. She did make a protest, but Colonel Holland told her to step aside. But I heard the uncertainty in the Colonel's voice. Then Helena Sorenson looked me right in the eyes from about five meters away. She had a goofy smile on her face. She was pretty attractive and I know Micho had to be paying attention since it was the first time he was even anywhere near her. Captain Morrison was also protesting this gentleman checking me over. But again, orders from Holland…

"Hold still." The man said. He pulled out a syringe and stuck it into my arm. As the man injected me with whatever the hell it was, the world became fuzzy almost right after he pulled out the needle. Hands were moving me, I was lifted and the world became dim and airy. The last thing I saw was Rico being restrained and injected too. Then I heard Sorenson's voice again. Then the Colonel's…then Morrison. Everything began to spin. It was worse than the gas. I was like I was caught in a blender and everything was moving past me a hundred miles per hour.

_We need to get them back to Bethlehem for treatment and interrogation. We've gotta get this situation under control ASAP. _

_Captain Morrison, prepare your company to step off. The 154th got blitzed by the gas and several Marines are missing. We think the ones off that list your soldiers found were the ones taken prisoner. God knows what the Soma are doing to them. We've orders from Division to get 'em out._

_When did this happen?_

Then, the world went almost completely dark. I was being lifted, then felt like I was flying. I heard the sounds of engines moving and in the background. But I had to know. They mentioned the 154th. My sister's company…

_About thirty five minutes ago to the west. The transponders showed them north of the city. We know this kid's sister is one of them. 98 bodies on the MSR with 15 Marines unaccounted for. We suspect this...Corporal Black was the target. But it doesn't matter now. They got who they needed. But I guess Dr. Glass can answer any questions...if you can find her!_

I couldn't react. My entire body and mind were frozen. I couldn't produce any thoughts. _Was my sister also affected by this? _I had to hear more. _It couldn't be_, I thought, _it just couldn't be._ But I could do nothing. I could ask nothing. My sister's fate was unknown.

_The woman doctor Werewolf sprung from St. Marie? What's going on here? Are the Soma interested in this kid?_

_Not just him. They're after a bunch of people but he was the highest priority. _

_I know that, Mrs. Sorenson. But __**why**__ are they interested in my Marines? Does this have to do with the Seelow Rot?_

_No...it's something __**far**__ worse, sir. What we've seen is only just the beginning._

_General Malleus wants answers, Mrs. Sorenson, not doublespeak._

_Colonel, to be honest, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. _

As I faded into the lonely darkness, I could only feel the absence of my other half. The wind blew through the truck's windows and I could only wonder what fate befell Tasha Lovecraft. I tried to conjure up any and all memories of her through the drugged haze in which I found myself. Then it hit me like a metal door that always closed too quickly. Every memory of Tasha was just that. It was always through my eyes, and my eyes knew all.

It was then I realized I'd forgotten something essential. My mother was wrong. I couldn't only know who I was or why I was here. I had to have both. I'd been wrapped up in this senseless war with the false idea that I knew why I was here. But now, I had no idea. I thought my purpose was clear. Now, I had gone from some small cog to a large gear in the machine. Was this how my father felt all those years ago? Was that the transformation he had to make in order to become Blaze? Darkness came, and in my dreams I tried to dig deep to find out the truth. But there was nothing there. I had no idea what I was anymore. But even worse, I hadn't forgotten who I was...because no one can forget something they never were in the first place. And I had no idea who I really was anymore.

Next Chapter: The Smartest Woman in the Universe


	14. The Smartest Woman in the Universe

Chapter 14: The Smartest Woman in the Universe

_**Tasha**_

**September 4, 2037**

**0700 hrs**

My eyes flew open and all I saw was white light. It was a burning ray and my retinas ached. My body was locked in place. I couldn't even move my head. It was cold and all I heard were voices. There were three voices initially. One was the sound of a woman, the others were men. The woman seemed of some importance. I couldn't remember much from the shock of the move from dream world to the real world. Then, something pierced my neck. It was a sharp pain, less than the light, but the sting was enough to grit my teeth a little. Maybe it was because it was quite a sudden one. Then I began to feel an alien fluid enter my body. It was cold and every nerve ending in my body became rather prickly. My eyes became watery and dim as my senses were taken away…except my hearing. I had no idea what was really going on, but I guessed I was probably a POW…or so I thought.

"_Seelow Division will be furious that our attack in Mogani failed."_

"_I don't understand Madame General. Why is this kid so important to Dr. Asimov?"_

"_That's to be discussed at a more opportune time."_

"_You promised me and my associates an explanation. We lost a tremendous amount of potential samples in Mogani. This is not going to make my boss happy."_

"_Very well, Mr. Douglass. The boy is the key to it all. The doctor needs this Brandon Lovecraft alive. His genetic data is the fuel that makes this project go."_

I couldn't react at all. My mind was in overload. The enemy knew Brandon's name?! They knew him personally?

"_And her? Isn't she the fraternal twin? Couldn't we extract the genetic code from her? Time is a luxury we don't have, Madame General. The Oseans are going to win this war. We must have Project Seelow White up and running before they reach the Jaair Highlands."_

"_We need her data as well, but they are two of the same womb. The other half is useless without a significant DNA sample from the brother."_

Just as I became deathly afraid for my twin, there was a series of loud crashes and screams. The voices of my kidnappers changed their tune rather quick.

"_What the…where the hell did you come from?"_

"_Surprised to see me, mother?"_

"_I heard you escaped, but it'll do you no good. You've made quite the error in judgment, girl. You'll never make it out of here alive. Frankly, to this day, I'm still surprised the Dogmen didn't have you killed with the others in Kosata Square."_

"_It's a real shame, mother. A goddamn shame. Ten years ago, we were living under the same roof. Now, you've turned into the same monster that Asimov's become. Why? What happened to you?"_

"_Mr. Douglass, secure this…bald Osean girl for transport to Dr. Asimov immediately. Grayson, locate the other Osean prisoners and prepare them for processing, and Yuri, drown my useless daughter in the pond."_

"_Certainly."_

Steps were made and then there were the sound of more crashes. And I could have sworn I heard a bone break.

"_What the…?"_

"_Oh, don't look shocked, mother."_

"_Stop her!"_

Gunshots flew, men screamed and there was plenty of shattered glass and broken tables. There were more crunches and broken bones.

"_What the hell is that?!"_

The fracas concluded with the sound of a dying man pleading for his life…and finally silence save the sound of scratching on the floor.

"_What happened to you? It can't be! IT CAN'T BE!"_

"_Don't you see mother?! Look at me! LOOK AT ME!!! Do you see my face?! Or is it just another generic person, one more in an endless line of people you've killed."_

"_Please, don't…let's be reasonable here. I had orders, you know that! Whatever Musharak says goes…I can't go over his head. Let's just forget the past. I had nothing to do with what happened to your son!"_

"_You let it happen! Ah, but the graves never forget. Your grandson won't either. You let my son die and you have the nerve to ask for mercy?!" said the woman, "Don't you see what's happened to your little girl, mommy dearest?! Don't you see what you've done?! What your virus did to me!"_

"_Then make it quick. But you won't survive this. The Dogmen will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Surrender doesn't exist for them."_

"_Good, tell 'em I said…come get me! So long and good night, mother."_

I lay motionless, my eyes closed and I pretended I wasn't even there. All I heard were the screams, the tearing of flesh and cracks; the unfortunate woman's shattered bones and death gurgle. But as I lied there, I could only smile inside my head. I was excited to be in combat when we were shot at in Kazar. Then I passed into an almost infinite sleep.

***

**September 6, 2037**

**0700 hrs**

I couldn't quite see that well, but I felt my body on top of plush cotton. I was no longer restrained. I moved my hands around and it was obviously a bed. My mouth was bone dry. There was a light feeling and it was almost as if I had little or no clothes on. I thought I was in enemy captivity. But it certainly didn't _feel_ like a prison bed. If anything was a dead giveaway of that, when my eyes finally opened and I saw the dimmed lights above, I could smell flowers. I knew there was blue saffron and lilac in the air. I knew that too well since Mrs. Rose grew those in her garden just down the street from my parent's house.

Funny, the last time I woke up in an unknown place was at eleven years old. My mother, Astrid and I got tossed from an inflatable tube while traveling down the Okarani River. The rapids were unusually high for that time of year. I woke up in a hospital in a town I'd never heard of. I had hit my head on a rock and needed seventeen stitches, my mother cut her leg open and needed sixteen. Astrid got washed up on the shore and came out unscathed. My dad and Brandon also got tossed, but my father broke his pinky finger and Brandon only came out with skinned knees and stomach full of river water.

We never went back to the Okarani River.

I picked myself off the bed and was shocked to see a collection of mannequins around a silver walled room and a linoleum floor. My stunned emergence from what felt like a coma made me mistake the mannequins for actual people at first. And the mannequins were dressed _quite_ well. It was as if they were putting on a fashion show! There were female dolls dressed in black slacks and scoopnecks. One of them had on a white v-neck shirt with a net of cherry and peach colored arrangements. One petite model wore a rather beautiful aquamarine dress with turquoise beads for spaghetti straps.

Then, I looked at myself and I too was in a dress!

Now, the dress was beautiful. It was made of thin, black, exotic silk. If the black straps were any thinner, the dress would have fallen off me.

I looked around frantically. "Where…where am I?"

What was the point of the dress? Was this war some horrible dream and I'd woken up in the middle of a cocktail party? But it wasn't a dream, because the memory of the terror came back. It was the last thing I remembered and I didn't know how to react.

"Xanthia?! Charles? Jason? Lieutenant? Anyone?!" I shouted.

There was a cold hand against my chest. It just appeared out of nowhere. "Relax, girl. You're alright. I think. But at least the enemy won't have you." A female voice said.

The voice seemed a sophisticated one. Then it all flooded back to the room I was in before. It was the voice of the woman who no doubt tore my Soma captors apart, but I didn't know she rescued me until now. I had no idea how much time had passed, but it made sense. The mysterious woman walked slightly away from me.

"Don't worry, I'm a friend. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean." She said.

"What the…heck happened to…what did…" I stammered, trying to remember everything that happened.

I kept inspecting myself and asking ridiculous questions. "What is this? Where's my PPE? Where's my Kevlar? What is this, silk? I'm in a dress! What the hell's going on?" I said, my eyes darted all over me. I smelled makeup. Then I felt something on my head. I turned and there was a mirror…and a black wig was on my head. The same jet black, perfectly cropped and slightly bobbed hair as the woman in front of me.

"I think you look gorgeous in that number." The woman said.

She walked over to a small brown colored couch covered in plastic. She fetched a small box from the floor and retrieved a cigarette from it. She lit it with a yellow lighter and puffed away on the carcinogen. Every puff she took seemed like she was a little _too_ relaxed from the smoke. I was still a little weirded out from the fact she had on the exact same dress that I did…then I even saw I had the same high heels she had on!

What was going on with this woman? Why, in the middle of all this chaos and death in Yuktobania, was a woman playing dress up?!

She set the cig down, took off the sling back pumps she had on and began slipping off the black, fishnet pantyhose she had on. It was the first time I noticed how unnatural she looked. She was rather lithe, but she was taller than me. Her eyes were a _glowing_ blue. Her nose was _perfectly_ shaped. Her skin was the dead giveaway. On her face, the Yuke woman had matte of pale white makeup all over her face. If it was any whiter, she could have passed for a mime. But the rest of her skin was out of the ordinary, even more than the perpetually peach skinned Dulcinea. It was a strange pearlescent tan. It looked almost alien in a way. She looked like something out of one of my favorite anime cartoons.

My eyes bulged and I stared her. "Did you…put me in this while I was under?"

The black haired woman said, "Do I really need to answer that question?"

I wasn't sure how to react to that at first, but…"Okay, you may not be the enemy…but you're freaking _weird_. Do you get off by playing dress up with unconscious people?"

The raven haired woman laughed, "I'm crazy, silly girl but I'm not insane. Crazy people get off by dressing up unconscious foreigners. Insane people kill unconscious foreigners and play with their corpses."

"What are you talking about?" I said. The Yuke jumped off the couch and walked back over to me. I jumped off the bed to face her, but at first my legs felt like rock.

"I know many things about you, girl. I know why you were brought here. I know why the people in your company are mostly dead and gone." The woman said.

"What? Where am I anyway? What happened?"

The woman put her index finger on her chin, "It's been nearly two moons since you've been away. I've only had you here for a few hours or so."

"What? I can't…what happened to me?!" I said, my confusion reaching the max.

"Relax. Just sit down." She said. There was a table in front us, but there was also a chair in the corner. The chair was a cushioned one, so I backed into it and flopped down. I pressed my hands against my temples to piece together why I was here.

The woman blew a puff of smoke to her left, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Ivanava Zarolsav, biochemist and self proclaimed smartest woman on the face of the planet. I think."

"Excuse me?" I asked. Her voice sounded similar to the way someone from North Point would talk with the regal, vestal sounds. There was nothing about this woman that screamed _Yuke_.

She paced in front of me. "You were traveling to the west of Severja when it hit you."

Then it hit me. Severja. My company. The gas. I got up and searched around the room. I found my ruck on the floor and there was a curious folded note sticking out of the outside pocket. Then, something triggered in my brain. I noticed the unique handwriting on it and I picked it up. It was the opened envelope Lillian gave me...the one she gave me before everyone started dying. I read it again, and I could still scarcely believe what I read.

_Dear Tasha Black:_

_You don't know me. Your brother doesn't know me, but there's a man who does: his name is Wille Chapman. He is my husband's brother. He wrote me days ago, and one part, he talked about you and your relationship with this Rico Lazarus. He was concerned about you. I never admitted this to anyone but Willie and he kept my secret for all these years. He begged me to come forward with the truth. He spoke of your brother with a great admiration, but he knew that this Brandon would be ashamed to tear you two apart without proof. Through a Queue mail, this Lillian Izzo, someone you are quite familiar with, asked me to also reveal the truth. _

_It seems that our paths were destined to cross. I don't want to waste your time with the Osean people's increasing animosity at the media bans around the military. I want to be as simple as I can be. I'm asking you...no, I'm __**begging**__ you this for your own safety and sanity._

_Get as far away from Rico Lazarus as you can. _

_I was a victim of the man you're with now...and the very people in your company, this Charles Ellerbe and this Jason Moore. I was violated by him and his friends for a thrill long ago; yes, the very man you love is nothing but a heartless, empty person, just like his soulless mother who hired the best lawyers in town. I never had a chance. They called me a drunken slut who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was innocent of the rape charge. He can't be tried for the same crime again. He only pleaded guilty to the drug and alcohol possession. But no one in the media knew my story. They were too concerned with people in Bright Hill than a eighteen year old girl visiting her father for a day or two._

_No one cared about my story. I don't wish to go through the ghastly details, but if you only knew what truly happened on the night of August 15, 2034...you'd jump out of a window. If your brother knew, he'd kill him. Even now, years after, I still have nightmares about that night. I was abandoned by everyone, even my own father. I've never forgiven my father for breaking apart our family, taking money from his mistress...Rico's own mother._

_So please, run while you can. There are plenty of good men out there to find, and not rapists and creeps with lots of money. Get out before he hurts you. Get out for your brother and for all the poor girls hurt by this man and his friends. I could care less he's fighting in the military. Frankly, how could the judge and the government allow such men to represent the Osean Corps? Then again, they'd just about let anyone into a service with guns._

_But finally, if nothing but a selfish request: do it for me. But you don't have to tell him what you know. Just leave him. You don't have to thank me. Just don't forget._

_Love, _

_Dina Gaudes_

I started shaking and I couldn't stop the flow of tears. It all came back as the first saline raindrop from my eyes hit the paper.

***

_**36 Hours Earlier…**_

_**North Severja**_

It was just me and Lillian sitting there all alone on the edge of camp. We were somewhere between Severja and the outer edge of the Marsi area, the extreme boundary of the 1st Marines' position.

_(The words bounced around my head, I tried to make sense of the memory. I saw myself communicating on a Queue, totally against rules, but I didn't care at all. Lillian had walked over to me and sat down with this big smile on her face.)_

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh, I found a neat little way I can communicate back home." I said, "It's an old Queue I found. It was still in pretty decent shape. I just hot-wired a little bit. Brandon showed me how to do it months ago."

_(Lillian laughed. She wasn't going to tell anyone. She put her hand around my shoulder and shoved my head into hers again. At the same time, she looked up at the purplish black sky.)_

"It's a beautiful night. Don't you think?" she said.

"Yeah. I guess."

_(I wasn't expecting her to hit me with question of all questions.)_

"Do you love Rico? I mean, really love him. I mean, the term of love as not just something people barely out of their teens are supposed to say to their boyfriends."

"I do." I said. _(I hesitated.)_

"I mean, do you feel like you can be yourself around him? Does he feel the same? Does he feel awkward about being around you?"

"Well...see…" _(Uh-oh.)_

"Stop it. You're not really in love with him. You've got a ton of questions you want answered. From what I know, he's never been straight with you. He hates your brother, but never gives a legitimate reason. Not to mention you didn't tell anybody until we found out…or Brandon, when Rico just showed up in front of your house. Now _that_ is a telling sign." She says.

"I…I do have a lot of questions about him. It seems like everybody's saying the same thing. How can I deny that? I mean, I don't know what the hearsay is and not." I said.

Lillian became more serious, "You're young and it's the first time you've been with someone, I understand. But look, take it from a reporter, if more than two people tell you something…it's a big deal. Take this from someone who's been in relationships."

I'm desperate at this point. I want to hold onto my existence, "Lillian…I just want to know. This is _so_ important to me. I've made him such a big portion of my life…"

"…too quickly and too much so," Lillian interrupted, "That's why you're in this situation. That's why your mother didn't trust him."

"My parents got married within seven months of meeting each other. Brandon's been with Dulcinea for a year." I said.

"Lighting in a bottle. Look, I've been keeping a real secret from you. Your mother…she made me swear not to tell you what I found out about Rico until the war was over…but I can't do it anymore. I can't stand to see you twisting in the wind over something that's not what you think it is."

"What?" I said.

_(Now I sensed it was where Lillian dropped the trump card on me. She leaned in closer to me, her eyes burning into my own.)_

"Rico's a freak. I'd say about 80 percent of everything Charles said is true. I know. Three years ago, I investigated his this corporation for anti-trust violations. Rico's mother was a major shareholder in this pharmaceutical company. I found out his mother was having an affair. I did a little digging and I found out the person she was having the affair with was the father of a girl who was raped at a party at his house. The culprits: the very trio of men involved in Charles' stories. But they got off with plea bargains…and ended up where most people in that situation end up: here among soldiers."

_(__**You're full of it and I don't believe you.**__ But it all felt like a cheap excuse. My voice fades like a dying battery.)_

Lillian continued, "Rico and Charles were characterized by the prosecution as "textbook sexual deviants", but his family had some pretty good lawyers. Then, the investigation was closed and a gag order was placed on the story. I didn't think much of it because I had a lot of work to do, until a few days ago. It just hit me like a hockey puck when my fiancé mentioned it briefly in a letter. It seemed your mother brought him up in conversation. So I "borrowed" one of the confiscated Queues to your mom and I got a message out. We exchanged words and here I am…telling you the truth."

_(I made up excuses throughout the entire tirade, but it all became background noise at this point.)_

"Then it's true then. He's not who I thought he was." I said.

"You want proof? Here." She said. _(I saw the letter. The very same letter.)_

"What is this? Who the hell is Dina Gaudes?" I say.

Lillian replies with a blank face, "One of the NCOs dropped that off with your platoon leader. I was talking to him at the time and I volunteered to take it to you. of course, I asked her to write you and tell you the truth, but I had no idea that your brother's platoon mate had such a concern about you."

I drank a little from my canteen and I did a spit take when I read the part: _Get as far away from Rico Lazarus as you can. _I read the letter and each word was beautifully handwritten. The letter was sent express mail, which meant that this was a matter of deep importance. Most people didn't send anything express mail unless it was essential. To me, it was almost as essential as ammo or food. I could not believe that everything about Rico was a lie. Charles didn't even own up to the suffering of this Dina Gaudes, and yet he was perfectly willing to tell me about Rico's true past. Jason backed up the story, Willie Chapman...Willie _Goddamn_ Chapman, Willie _Bassmaster _Chapman was concerned about me and Rico, and even Lillian and this Mrs. Gaudes! Everyone was telling me Rico Lazarus was bad news and how could I be so arrogant as to ignore it anymore?

I breathed heavy and my teeth were glued together in anger as I saw Charles and Jason joking around with Sgt. Adams. Everything began to pass in an angry blur. And just like that, my entire life, this self-made house of cards, came crashing down. I just screamed and pounded my fist into the arid dirt. My body couldn't decide whether to be angry and throw things or be sad and cry till I was too weak to shed tears. It all came out in one violent, confused reaction as I cried and cursed at Jason and Charles, and Rico for ruining my life...and yet, it was just as much my own fault as anyone. I was enraged at everything including myself.

My life, my relationship with Rico...it was all one big fucking lie.

I took off and ran away towards the buildings in shame. I didn't want anyone to stop me. I wouldn't be caught; I was the fastest three mile runner in boot camp. I could run a mile in just over seven minutes. I wanted to run a hundred just so I could cry my life away because I had nothing left. My heart was broken and everything I believed in was a lie. It wasn't so much cowardice of war, I had no problem with that...but it was shame. It was a shame that everyone felt when their lives were proven false. The first person I ever loved, and who I thought loved me was an evil person, someone who didn't care about anyone but himself; unrepentant of taking away the innocence of a girl who was just at a party one night.

"Gas! Gas! Gas!" someone yelled, "Gas! Gas! Gas!"

I didn't care...I just kept running. I wanted to die. I'd made such a mess of my life. I didn't hear the explosions, I didn't see the gas and all the people struggling in their death throes, their masks believed to be defective, the ones they trusted since boot camp...and it couldn't save them. I wished for a quick death because in my insane realization of the truth, my life had no meaning anymore.

_**Present Day**_

I should have died. I wanted to die. I dropped to my knees, shaking, angry with everything. Then it dawned on me. Everyone was gone, "Oh, my god. Everyone…"

Zarolslav put on a puppy dog look, "At least you weren't the only survivor."

I stopped and got up, "What do you mean?"

Zarolslav went to another chair near the table in front of us and sat down. She motioned me to do the same. But I did not. The woman shook her head.

"I was in the area. I was escaping my captors when I came across your company. Most of the others were dead, at least I thought. They didn't even time to get their gas masks on. But then I found you, unconscious. Then I realized it was fate that led me to you. I found a few more of your comrades were unconscious. I took so much time trying to figure out who was dead and alive that a small battalion of Dogmen showed up. I hid you and the civilian woman that was nearby in a shed just outside town. I overheard the guards mention that one was missing but I was unsure if they meant the woman I hid."

Zarolslav got up and began to leave the room.

"Follow me. I want to show you something." She said.

I saw some of my equipment on the floor near the dresser. I picked up my M4 and slung at it my side. I wasn't sure at first why I did it, but I eventually decided not to take any chances with this woman. Ivanava laughed when she saw me hold up my M4 Carbine.

"Don't worry about that. Trust me." Zarolslav said.

Tersely, I said, "My trust extends at the end of this M4."

This woman was not the enemy, but I didn't trust this mime-makeup faced one. What was there to trust about a crazy person who did weird things to unconscious people or collected mannequins? I didn't care if she was a doctor. Most of the doctors, except Mrs. Bohr, were freaking strange people.

But because she wasn't the enemy, I relaxed my stance a little. The safety was still on and I finally realized just how bizarre it all was. Here we stood and faced each other, both with black hair (or a black haired wig), black silk skirts and black sling back pumps.

The woman laughed. Zarolslav jumped up on the wooden table behind her with a quickness that could've only occurred if the meekest of women saw a mouse. She smiled at me, her legs crossed and her hands folded at her knees. I shook my head and tried not to laugh. The Yuke doctor then hopped off the table and walked towards me, her tongue popping in and out of her mouth and side of her cheek. She walked in a lazy, almost seductive gait. I was even more freaked out than before, because I saw her bright blue, laser focused eyes on me and thought she wanted to molest me. I lost my focus for a mere minute, and then I went flying. An impact against my stomach sent me airborne. It was like a meteor striking the world. My feet were shoeless and I collapsed back twenty feet into the stone wall in a violent finish.

I grabbed my lower back as pain rushed through and my breaths sounded like that of a dying animal. It kinda reminded me of the ending to _Arazi_, the first movie Brandon and I ever saw in a theater with our parents. Brandon hated it until the ending when the mother bear was caught in the bear traps and had to be shot. My brother loved it, but I was shaken to the core. I cried for hours after that.

But the point was that everything I thought _Arazi_ would be was not, and so did I think this woman was just an oddball…only to find out the opposite. One minute, I had the advantage. The next, I was on the ground and each one of my breaths felt like a thousand tiny daggers were piercing my lungs. The last time I was in a fetal position like this was when that bitch Adriana Goffney hit me in the stomach with a math book in fourth grade; subsequently making me puke all over the floor.

The woman walked over to my crumpled self and with _one hand _she stood me upright. I was a pretty good 150 pound set of muscle fibers. But the woman couldn't have been more than 120 pounds. She pretty much laughed at everything I could do. She actually straightened out the wig and stood back from me. Her stance was statue-like. After she looked me up and down, Zarolslav twisted her arms and popped a few bones, she craned her neck and cracked a few joints there as well.

"As if you could kill me," She said, coldly. "You can't even physically challenge me."

I couldn't react, "What _are _you? I've never seen…"

The woman interrupted me, "Few have. But then again, we're not so much different, eh, Tasha. Or should I call you…Natasha Alice Lovecraft. That's your real name isn't it?"

Almost no one, not even Zanne, knew my original name was _Alice_. And even so, they originally named me _Natasha_. But my dad and my mom had a strange competition over me and my brother's names. My mother won with Brandon, but my dad won out with me. To that day, I had no idea what the competition included. But…

"How did you…" I said, unable to formulate a response. Then I clutched my stomach and spat blood in the wastebasket nearby. My head was killing me.

"Sit down a minute." She said. Finally, I took her on her offer and sat down at the thick, almost perfectly glossed wooden table. She entered the white, almost old school refrigerator on the far right side of the room and retrieved a purple plastic container and two glasses. She poured herself and me what looked like grape juice. Then she dropped a few aspirin pills in front of me. I was parched, so it could have been straight honey and I wouldn't have cared. I swallowed the pills, drank the juice down in a few seconds and I tasted like three or four different fruits. But where did she get the fruits from? It was definitely made in a blender; I could taste the pulp. Everything in Yuktobania was pretty much dead or dying. I wasn't sure what to say. I thought for a minute, and then I asked her…

"Those people…your mother or whatever…they talked about Brandon. They wanted him…why?"

I set the glass down and she took another drag on the fading cigarette, "Now be quiet and open your ears, little girl. We're taking a little trip into the rabbit hole, Alice. I want to tell you a story."

I did. After all, my mother taught me to shut up and listen when someone you knew was smarter than you talked.

"Like most stories," Ivanava began, "there is what literature defines as the protagonist and the antagonist. The Soma, they want us and it's a great irony. See to them, you're an anomaly like me. You can trust me, beautiful girl…I'm just like you. A freak of nature."

She placed her hand on mine. To which I responded, "What's so special about me?"

Ivanava laughed, "Oh, don't be intellectually dishonest with yourself. You have some amazing hearing. Just as your brother has amazing vision. But that's not all. They want your genetic code."

My mouth hung open, "For what?"

"This war is not being fought for the reasons you think. Nor is it being fought for the reason the average member of Soma thinks. This war is all about control. But control of what? Land, resources, people…and that's the point. The virus is just precursor to complete control. _They_ had the idea right, but no one could figure out how to execute it. There were too many agendas. Ex-Versuans, Hazri, Yuke defectors…it was a mess from the start. And my family was caught up in the mess." She said.

I connected two and two, "So that woman general…she really _was_ your mother?"

Zarolslav looked intensely sad, "She was a good woman once. She was a very smart woman, an intelligence officer. When I was a little girl, I called her the smartest woman in the universe. But when my youngest brother died a few years ago, then my father died, something snapped in her. She started drinking. She went through bouts of depression. Then, she just…vanishes one day. I was doing my graduate work at the University of Dresdene. I finished up and I was sent to work in various places in Cinigrad over the past six years. My last job was in this Asylum in the D'Enfante Palisades."

I replied, "Oh, now I see…"

She dumped the dead cigarette into the ashtray, which was actually just a top to a container of pickles or something, "It was there I met this Dr. Asimov. He was a very strange man. I think his name means: _the one who cries_. I was given a simple job…paid high fives figures too. I had to deliver medicine intravenously into patients there and fill out the form. That was it!" the woman said laughing, "Then the patients…they started to die. Their skin began to rot and peel off and it made them smell horribly. It was terrible. The army stationed there said it was some kind of virus going around and we had to take quarantine measures. I was told not to return the day the announced it, at least until they got the situation straightened out."

She lit another cigarette, "At the time, I was married to a man named Rasmi Baacei. He, like me, was quite the flamboyant person. He helped me to express my fashion sense to keep me sane from all the hours of medical terms and forms, the insanity of the Lubanka Asylum. He was a lovely man. He did like cross-dressing but I actually found quite titillating…"

"I don't even want to go there." I said, throwing my hands up.

"I had a son too. His name was Nilas. He was a beautiful boy."

My tone was grim and I knew, but I said it anyway, "You keep saying _was_."

Ivanava closed her eyes in pain, as if she'd swallowed something acidic, "They're dead now. I was at home when it happened. I lived inside the D'Enfante Palisades. There are three districts inside that part: Da Bohemia, Peria, and Kosata Square. My husband was good friends with this old boyhood chum, Jakob Ariev."

Just when I too was feeling dismal, my mood instantly picked up. "Jakob Ariev? My sister's husband?"

"Yep. Sueltana Devia. That's the one. She actually grew up near where I did. She's what…thirty now? I'll be…thirty two in January. I remember the day Ciudad broke out into the first civil war. Peria used to be a suburb and it was burned to the ground. I barely got out and apparently, Sueltana was still alive. I was _so_ convinced she'd died back with her family in 2012. It seems that her fate now is…no more different than whatever she survived back then."

It was amazing how quickly Sueltana became a lesser priority in all this mess. I had to know. "Is she dead?"

The Yuke interrupted me, "Well, let me finish the story first. It's important. The day the war happened, we were going downtown to take our son to the mall in Kosata Square. We crossed into the area, and we heard planes. They were so loud I had to cover my son's ears. Then, there were explosions. Bright lights were everywhere. Then buildings exploded, bodies flew all over the place. People were dying all around me. The Desras Building collapsed and people fell from the sky like rain. We were stuck inside the underground portion of the mall for three days."

She wiped her eyes and continued, "When the dug us out, we found the soldiers to be different from the regulars. I was…taking care of some…personal business when I came back to the group. We'd heard gunshots on the outside as well. Then…they came in. Rather, they ran in…shooting all the way. They called us every foul word they could. I didn't know at the time, but it was the Dogmen who did the deed. The Jaair Yukes' elite guard, the most fanatical of their soldiers. They burned books in the square, paintings, and killed people they considered _infidels_."

She started shaking and now tears ruined the rather beautiful, if out of place, matte makeup.

"My lover was murdered when the Dogmen purged the Kosata Square. They killed just about everyone there. Not just the artists, the singers, and homosexuals who lived there…they killed the crippled, the old, children…even Osean and North Point tourists, and Versuan immigrants, and just about anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. See, Kosata is the Yuke version of South Osea and the Hazri don't really like our kind so…" said the woman. "The rest is a history that won't be told by the victor."

"What do you mean…_our kind_? What are you suggesting?" I said, curious as to her comment.

"I'll get to that later. After hiding my son and playing the acting job of my life pretending I was dead, we cut and ran. I made it outside the district, but son was separated from me in the chaos of the evacuation. Then I was caught by the Dogmen. But they didn't know I lived in Kosata. The guards took me and beat me senseless. I never saw my son alive again."

The tears had turned her makeup into a series of cracked, purplish streaks: a fitting image. She continued, "Two months had passed while I was comatose. I woke up naked, attached to a breathing mask, and I was in a containment tube filled with this freezing, dark blue water. And you know who greeted me? Dr. Asimov."

I noticed the acid she put on the doctor's name.

She lit another cigarette after angrily crushing one in the ashtray, "I was poked and prodded like a piece of meat. And so too were the others in his capture. Dr. Asimov had been working for the Soma all along and it was Asimov who created the Seelow Rot virus. He never called us by name. He always referred to us by this idiotic number or called a _specimen_."

She calmed down a bit when she said, "I always felt tremendous guilt over the people who died in Lubanka. I couldn't ask too many questions. There were frequent visits from military personnel and as anyone in Yuktobania knows, when the army shows up…don't ask, don't tell. I felt I was killing those people. They told me it was a drug for schizophrenics. It was supposed to make their alternate personalities and visions go away. I found out the truth, when they put me on the medical table and Asimov himself injected me with the very same solution that I had done to the asylum patients. It was a derivative of the Seelow Rot virus."

Now it all made sense. Now we were near full circle…at least for the moment.

"What a bastard. But…it didn't kill you?" I asked.

"Nope." She said, popping her lips when she said the letter _p_,"It didn't. I thought I was going to die. But I _didn't_. I became…different over time because of it."

I noticed the way she shuddered when she said the word _different_. Was this a reference to her phrase, _our kind_, I thought.

"I was changed by this mutagen, this virus. I was kept in a containment tank, under sedation for nearly a month. When I came back, I was changed. I was…I became bitter, angry at the system for betraying me, for taking my family away from me. I had been changed. My eyes changed color from green to blue, my skin was darker, all my blemishes, cuts and bruises from my childhood was gone…I didn't recognize the person standing in the mirror." She said.

I didn't blink my eyes. "I see."

She shook her head. "My mother was waiting on me…she was one of them. She'd defected to the other side, to the Soma. I loved her once. Her name was Marana Zarolslav, more commonly known as the Apache, the leader of the Dogmen in this region. When I came back, she was the first to greet me. I was soaking wet, cold, and naked from head to toe after being dumped out of a examination tank. She was shocked I'd survived it all. Apparently, they'd given me the virus in hopes I'd eventually die from it. They wanted to see how long it would take." She said. "From that day, I was changed. Never again would I be the same Ivanava Zarolslav. And they _too_ were equally horrified at what had happened to me."

Ivanava got up and walked over to me. She took my hand and I could feel the apprehension in hers. "I cannot describe to you shock when I saw that my…well, I…I lost…I...okay. How shall I put this? What generally defines a person's gender lies in their loins and I underwent…a significant change downstairs."

My eyes bulged and I about fell out of my chair, "Holy shit! Oh, my god! Are you kidding me!? You…you're a guy!?"

She walked closer to me, "No. And yes. I am both concurrently…and neither."

"I can't _believe_ they'd…_do_…_that_ to you." I said. I was revolted...and utterly amazed at the same time, "WOW. I've met a lot of strange people in my life, but never anyone like you."

It was true; I _had_ met some unusual people from South Osea. Assuming they were still alive, Charles, Rebecca and Jason's individual assessments of South Osea, that it was a haven for people with _questionable orientations _were dead wrong_. _It was home to a ton of artists, movie stars, left-wing politicians, beatniks, poets, musicians, and flamboyant people. Of course, Ivanava was weird for other reasons than simply being a victim of _forced anatomical change_. Of course, I had no problem with anyone _choosing_ such a radical procedure, but this woman…or half-woman or whatever, had no choice in the matter. The Soma did this to her. She was forced to be this Dr. Asimov's experimental plaything.

_Was there some oath that doctors had to take to prevent this kind of crap_, I thought. That was something I could never understand.

"I'm sorry it freaks you out. Believe me, I was scared to death. But, it was strange…I…I got used to it. I sort of accepted it with all the other changes. It's kinda fun actually…"

I held my hands up, "Spare me the details, please."

Ivanava "Alice, imagine_ your_ mother, the one you loved and looked up to and called the smartest person in the world, doing to you what Marana and Asimov did to me. Could you imagine the _hatred_ you'd feel?"

"I don't want to. My mother would never do _that_ to me, or even wish that on an enemy." I said, "But, what kind of drug they used?"

"I thought it was Seelow Rot at first, the same one they tested on everyone else. But really, what they injected _me_ with was a new derivative of Seelow Rot, a mutagen designed to alter humans at a genetic level."

"But if that stuff was put into you and…changed you, what else did they do?"

"They wanted to know why I didn't die. Eventually, they found out. It was my…unique genetic structure. It was a flaw in my DNA. There was one strand of DNA that had stronger bases. The bases of DNA are the Cytosine, Guanine, Thymine, and Adenine. The anomaly in the strand was that the bases were twice as strong as normal. What was supposed to be a point mutation, created a different mutation. My talent was intelligence; it was hard-wired into my DNA. The virus changed everything and nothing without killing me. They called it the Rhombus Gene."

She poured herself another cup of whatever the hell that purple juice was, "Not surprisingly, they panicked. They were unsure who had the gene or not. It was a rare thing and they weren't sure if my case was the exception. Now, keep in mind this was just weeks before the actual war started."

Now came the 10,000 dollar question, "How do my brother and I fit into this? And what happened to the others?"

Zarolslav leaned back in her chair and out her feet up on the table, "Ah, that's the _real_ question…isn't it? I'm not sure if the attack on your company was planned to capture you and your friends. That attack was random. But it was still an experiment to test the newest strand of the Seelow Rot. Most of your company died instantly from the first strand."

"Wait…first strand? Now you're confusing me." I replied.

She took her feet off the table and faced me with her elbows on the table, pointing her burning cigarette at me, "Basically, it boils down to this. There are two strands of Seelow Rot. Type One and Type Two. Type One is what you're most familiar with. Type Two is the dangerous one. Your company was hit with a series of bombs set up along that road in the suburb near the city. It was a much more concentrated dose, at least 2,000 to 3000 psi. The bombs, from what I understand, all went off at the same time. There were at least 50 around the edge of Severja."

"And Type Two?" I invariably asked.

Zarolsav took on a much more serious tone, "Type Two is a much more dangerous form. I am unsure what the implications are but it can control people. It's more recent. But the effects are a crapshoot from I've discovered. But one thing is clear, they do provoke violent reactions in many people."

Now I was worried. If _she_ didn't know much about this Type Two, what did it say about the ignorance of the higher ups? But there was one more important question. Just how in the world did they know about me and my bro?

"How did they get our information? How did you find out about all this?" I asked.

"They went on a tear, kidnapping even more people to get a sample of how many possessed this Rhombus Gene. I was forced to put my smarts to use by sampling the population. If they were found to not have the gene, they were killed. If they did, they were kept in isolation chambers. I had nothing, no leverage, no one to help me. My son had been victim of this kidnapping scheme," Zarolslav continued, "This is why _you_ were kidnapped. They knew everything about you: your brother, your parents, what unit you served in…"

"So it was all random? How did they know about me?"

"This is where they say, the plot thickens. While I was under captivity, I did my own research. I broke into Asimov's office and learned many a thing about the virus. They were converting old Yuktobanian science labs into testing grounds for the disease. And the most shocking thing of all: a few ex-employees of some massive arms corporation back in Osea came to Asimov with a set of stolen military ID records; 11,000 of them, in fact."

She continued, "After I found out my son was killed, I'd dug pretty deep into the files. I'd learned a lot about the Rhombus Gene and the virus. But my life had lost all its meaning. Once I was assured he was safe, then I learned through the databases that he was terminated as a victim of this twisted project. I decided to kill myself, ironically, with the same virus that changed me. I gave myself a concentrated dose of both strands and waited for the end. And again…I didn't die. I became stronger. More agile. Smarter. I couldn't believe it." She said, "Now follow me. Let me show you the lab I found."

She led me to a small area past a metal door in the same room. I deduced this must have really been the basement of wherever she'd hidden me. Inside the dimly lit room, there was a black door in the floor. On top of it was a large cross-like switch surrounded by smaller buttons. Ivanava pulled up the switch and pressed two buttons. The door expelled some hot vapor and opened upwards at a medium speed. It revealed a set of black and white stairs down. I had taken my rucksack and equipment and carefully made my way down, since I no longer had on my shoes. I couldn't see much, but there was some panel to the right of a massive door. Ivanava pressed a few buttons I couldn't see but hear.

As the enormous door opened, it began to sink in just what the Soma was capable of; or maybe it _was_ some kind of hijacked pre-war facility. The door opened and a blast of cold air hit us. I got over the goosebumps on my legs and arms and we walked inside the room. This…lab looked like most labs usually did with the sterile, white floor, computers, beakers, test tubes and what looked like a makeshift greenhouse garden. _So __**that**__ explained where she got the fruit from_, I thought.

"I hated myself for selling out to them, just to save what little piece of my life I had left. All that, only to find out that my mother had personally oversaw the facility where he died, in some town called St. Marie du Maurine. It was there, I learned of the location of someone my husband knew long ago. Jakob." She said.

I exclaimed, "He's alive?!"

"He'd been transferred to the lab where I was. It was then I learned the true purpose of the Rhombus Gene. It's very complex to explain the entire thing but simply put, it's a genetic anomaly that responds to mutation with a mutation of its own. The mutation isn't designed to morph into anything malignant, but rather it changes the cells in the best way possible for survival. In other words, if a congenial malignancy comes along, the gene basically does whatever's necessary to ensure the survival of the entire DNA cluster…and subsequently the cell, the organs, etc."

"So, what you're saying is that you became…a mixed gendered person because of the gene?" I said, putting everything together. That certainly helped explain why she actually accepted and _enjoyed_ the changes in her body. I knew if that happened to me, I'd have killed myself. Or maybe, it already had. If I had the gene, then it saved my life and that would mean that everyone in the company who was alive…was probably saved because of it too!

"That and I developed the strength and brains of two men. It saved my life. And it saved my life…and Jakob's life."

"So what happened next?" I asked, staring into the tubes.

I looked into the tube of blue colored fluid and I felt the hand of my new acquaintance on my bare shoulder. It wasn't a strong grasp, but I felt her red nails caress my skin. By then, I'd accepted the oddities of this affair. After all, the implications of this were huge. I knew the Osean Army's life depended on this woman's knowledge.

"These were the chambers were people were kept. The bodies were shipped out via an underground tunnel. Five weeks before you Oseans came, when Asimov and my mother were gone, I killed the security personnel in a lab outside Cinigrad and I freed your sister's husband. But Jakob was frenzied; he fled into the wild once I explained everything to him. I haven't seen him since."

I cursed under my breath. Back to square one. "And Sueltana?"

"I am unaware of her location. Originally she was kept at a facility in the Jilachi Desert. But as far as I knew, most of the people were moved when the war started. Ever since then, I've been fighting my own war of hate against these people. I've killed quite a few and I actually enjoyed doing it."

I then asked, "Is there a cure for this? What else did you find out?"

"There is no effective cure…but there is a countermeasure." Zarolslav said. She paused for a moment. Then she said, "_Your _blood. Specifically, any blood that's carries the Rhombus Gene can be synthesized into a defense against the virus itself. I am the smartest woman in the world now."

"Whatever," I said laughing, "But _why_ were they after my brother? What's going on?"

"The records showed that he had the highest concentration of Rhombus Gene cells of all affected by the congenial disorder. The Rhombus Gene, even without an extraneous bio-invasion, manifests itself in many ways. But Asimov…once he found out about you two, he lusted over both of you like you were sex objects. That's why I couldn't let you fall into their hands. I set the whole thing up with your capture though…just to have a chance at my mother. May she burn in Hell." Ivanava said bitterly.

I couldn't have agreed with her more. But the time for explanation had come to an end. "Look, we can't stick around here. We've got to get back to the Allied lines. We got to find the others; people need to be told this."

"We're sixty five miles behind enemy lines. I had to take you to somewhere I knew would be safe. I had to destroy your transponders and radios so you wouldn't be found. The Dogmen had orders to terminate you and your brother on sight. Because there's Oseans working with them, there's no telling what's going behind the scenes. The Dogmen would be provoked into a violent reaction if they knew you two were around. Not to mention the fact the fact they're still looking for _me_. After all, I…did kill their Madame General and enjoyed it _immensely_."

_Damn, I forgot about that_, I thought. "Oh, Jesus Christ! Well, come on. Let's get you back. I just wish I knew where the others were."

"I'm not too sure. But most of them are gone. And God have mercy on them if they ended up in the Soma's hands." She replied. Ivanava's voice was grim.

Something made me smile when I realized the end result of all this, "Well, at least we'll be heroes."

Ivanava dropped her smile faster than a sports car on the highway, "So you want to be a hero? Can you have a more suicidal dream?"

I was glowing at this point, "My brother will be so happy for me. All we dreamed about as kids was to be heroes."

Zarolslav slapped me in the face…real, _real_ hard. The hit was more than stinging. But I should have been thankful she didn't break my jaw with her strength.

"OW! GOD! What the hell was that for?!" I shouted. I had to admit, it hurt like crap. I shed a tear or two when I got hit. "Ouch! Wow, that stung…ow…what gives, lady?!"

For the first time, Ivanava was _furious_ with me, "You're fools! The only heroes I know are buried in the rubble of Kosata Square! 2,000 people. Men, women, children…the screams. The children screaming…" she said, shuddering again with more force, "I can't think about it anymore! And no one will care! No one will hear those screams!"

She was screaming so much she at the point of tears when she finished yelling at me. _So that was it_, I thought. It wasn't about me at all. I knew some terrible things had happened in this war, but that was long ago when we weren't even in the struggle. Now everything was right in our faces. But most Osean soldiers weren't interested in being heroes. Heck, most people back home didn't want to either. They were too concerned over whether or not our involvement in the war was even legal! No wonder Ivanava would be concerned over being forgotten. Such inhuman treatment deserved to be told. But I could've proven her wrong. We could have been the heroes that revealed the tragedy of Kosata Square.

After I got over the left side of my face being the victim of a one sided slap fight, I turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. "They _won't_ be forgotten. Someone remembers and if they don't…we'll _make_ them remember! My sister lived in the Palisades, this is my war too. This is her struggle too."

She took my hands off her, "That's not the point Alice. I'm not a hero. I'm just a revenging killer, doing what has to be done. I'm a vengeful, sinful person and hate is all I have left. And besides, heroes are always forgotten." She said.

Now I was angry, "Do you not care about life at all?"

"I've lost so many of the people I cared for and so much of myself. There are times when life has no meaning. I see myself through the mannequins…I see myself as a person that can never be what she was again. You must think I'm insane, but…" Zarolslav said, laughing.

_You don't know the half of it_, I thought.

"But I'm no hero." She concluded.

"My mother told me that everyone has the capability to redeem themselves." I said.

Ivanava laughed, "Most people never really do change. If that was the case, this war would have never happened. Few people change that much, not even men. The way a man is when he's young is usually the way he ends up as an adult. Maybe that was the way she always was: a psychopath."

I decided to break off the conversation when I gathered my things and decided to get out of the weirdness. If I was going back to the Allied lines, I couldn't be in a dress. I wanted to stay and look for Xanthia, but such a thing was impossible for me. For one thing, I didn't have the training on behind-enemy-lines-operations. My brother could've survived behind enemy lines and probably had a good chance of making it back home. As much as I wanted to know if Xanthia was alive or not, I knew that I had a larger priority on my hands, and Xanthia King wouldn't want me to waste time looking for her if the entire Marine Corps was at stake because of the virus. Marines never left anybody behind, but this time…I had a greater mission. I decided to find a place where I could get dressed….and found Zarolslav staring me the entire time.

Annoyed, I asked, "Can I have a _little_ privacy here?"

I stepped away and found a spot. I pulled out the letter from Dina Gaudes and took a short look at it. I put it away.

Before I even thought about undressing, I took one long look at myself in the mirror nearby. This was obviously the sign of a vain and self-loathing person: a person just like me. In one moment, it all snapped into perspective. Zarolslav, barring the forced anatomical and metaphysical changes the Seelow virus caused, was almost _exactly_ like me. The only difference was she had people she loved once, even through her husband's odd traits. We were both gender confused in different ways. I was always splitting time between blue jean tomboy and pink shirt innocent girl, something that drove everyone around me crazy. My adolescent life was one giant pendulum.

She and I both lost people close to us because of this virus. It had killed thousands of people, and dozens of good people in my company. Men and women with wives, husbands, children; all of them were people who searched for the Osean Dream. Once upon a time, Zarolslav followed Marana's dream as I followed my brother's dream. I'd spent all these years chasing my brother's impossible dream. And here I was, angry and bitter at everything my life had become. I didn't know who I really was anymore.

It was there in that reflection I saw the truth. It was through the sight of my unusual clothing, my almost unblemished body, my confused, wandering eyes and contorted face that I saw who I really was and the truth of all that I'd hidden. It had nothing to do with the information I'd learned, things much too heavy for a mere Lance Corporal to know.

I thought about Rico for a long minute. Everyone had been right about him…and most of the people who were right were gone and I had no idea if they were dead or alive. I'd kept him from the people I cared about because he was my secret. But perhaps something told me I knew who he really was, but I couldn't allow myself to know the truth. I was _so_ desperate for someone to love. I sat there through all those months and weeks of Dulcinea and my brother sharing this perfect relationship. He couldn't bullshit me about Dulcinea. It wasn't in his nature anyway. I wanted someone to care about who I was. And _he_ lusted after Dulcinea and Charles maintained his point about Rico. Dulcinea was always more beautiful than me. Everyone was always more beautiful than me, except of course to my brother, who always thought I was beautiful. That just told me he had a screwed up sense of attractiveness.

But as I continued to look at the baffled reflection in the mirror, I realized that for the first time…I _truly_ looked gorgeous. It was all a façade really, but I truly was a beautiful girl. All my life I'd had a river's worth of self-doubt. It was all about what people thought of Rico Lazarus and me. But even though all the times I'd been told that perhaps he was bad news, I didn't care. I wanted it all to be true. I had a lot of other misconceptions as well.

Through the all the times that I humiliated myself, or all the times I screwed up, or the times I looked ugly or wore something silly, I was never unloved by Brandon, Astrid, or my parents. I'd taken their love for granted and they were the ones who truly cared even though I had all this loathing inside of my soul. I did love them, but I should've _taken_ more love from them. My insecurities were eating me alive all these years.

And Rico? I really didn't want a man who had all these questions. I didn't want someone who treated women like an object. That's all I probably was to him…an object. I _wanted_ to love him, I _wanted_ to believe he'd changed. But this self-proclaimed androgynous svengali of mannequins and bioscience, this partially insane, ultra-strong Ivanava Zarolslav, a partially…sort of woman who lived over 5,000 miles away from my hometown read me like an open book and I finally realized it after all this time. I didn't even count the letter from Mrs. Gaudes.

My parents hadn't changed much in 27 years. My brother was the same at nine and nineteen; and I too had never changed. I was still the stupid, naïve follower I'd always been. It was enough to make be shed a few tears. They didn't stay on my face long.

I wiped them away and realized that I hated myself. I stripped off the dress and just stared at my partially naked body.

_Who was I?_

It was an impossible question to answer correctly, but as my father often said, _sometimes the answer lies in what __**not**__ to do rather than what to do. _As I stepped towards the mirror and placed my hand on the reflection, I knew exactly what I would _not_ do.

I would not take my family for granted again. I was through with the impossible dream my brother had, but I would dissuade him from it because it was _his_ dream. It was _never_ mine.

And I'd never refuse my brother's unconditional love for me. Never again would I see Rico. Never again would I fall into the trap of desperation for love. There was plenty of it out there and there were a million guys out there who were _good_ men…true men who could love me for who I really was. Someday, I wanted to have children with Mr. Right and I could give my cautionary tale to them. I'd have no more would-be rapists or creeps in my life. I told myself to convince Xanthia to leave our team with me and surround myself with the people I needed to be around and not screw-ups and liars like Jason and Charles.

And most of all: I'd _no_ longer doubt myself for what I looked like or who I was.

How could I love anyone…if I couldn't even love myself? I just stared at my quasi-nude body and smiled the whole time. I put my hands on my hips, moved them down the sides of my thighs and flipped the hair on the black wig I had on. I straightened my body back out, and cocked my hips. I was beautiful.

I was in love with the mirror image. I just leaned forward and kissed my reflection on the lips. It was the signature of the new covenant I had with myself: the new Tasha Black. No…not Tasha Black, but the new Natasha Lovecraft.

_No. Alice Lovecraft. That was who I'm going to be. Well, maybe Alice Black for now._

I redressed in my fatigues and cammies, put on my Kevlar and PPE and I was normal again. I stuffed the black wig and the dress in the rucksack. I'd wear the wig in downtime and use the dress to find a decent boyfriend once I got back to Osea. I turned and faced the biochemist who was gathering notes and other things.

"Now you look like a true rose, Alice." Zarolslav said.

"Thanks," I said, blushing, "Alright! Let's get back to Severja!"

It was a strange feeling. I was desperate to know if Xanthia was alright. Brandon's absence was like a missing limb. Xanthia's absence was like a major organ had been stolen from me. But all I had was this nutcase of a biochemist and it was this Zarolslav's actions that would dictate the fate of thousands of Osean soldiers and millions of Yuktobanian people. And _my_ actions, subsequently, dictated her survival, even if she had…superhuman strength. Dying was _not_ an option.

My question was: Did Brandon have any idea he was a target?

Then again, knowing Brandon, I knew he'd _love_ the idea of playing the hunted one. He _always _liked to be the chased one when we played hide and seek or war whatever other game we'd play as children. He was probably sitting in his fighting hole just daring the Dogmen to take him down…and counted the the ways he'd take them out.

But there was one_ other_ matter: even though I desired to cut loose of Rico, my soon to be ex, Charles Ellerbe, and Jason Moore had a _lot_ to answer for. That was for goddamn sure. Dina Gaudes would _not_ be forgotten.

The Next Chapter: Cold Blooded Ones


	15. Cold Blooded

Chapter 15: Cold Blooded

**Brandon**

**Somewhere in Bethlehem Park**

**September 6, 2037**

**1900 hrs**

I had no idea where I was at the time. I thought I was in Bethlehem Park…but I wasn't sure.

I was under the knife for a few hours. At least, I thought I was. I woke up at 1400 hrs confused and shot up to the eyeballs with orange Regen solution. I saw it on the counter next to me, the empty vials of the stuff, all labeled perfectly. _From one sleep to another_, I guessed. I fell asleep again for five minutes, and then I woke up again. I was in a dark-yellow colored room confused. I was in a bed, a rather comfortable one at that. I kept saying I was _confused_, because that's exactly what I was saying! I shook my head and found myself in a green hospital suit, the same kind of clothes a male nurse would wear. I looked and there was a table in the middle of the room. On top of the table, there was a series of manila briefs. Two chairs were there. I tried to gain awareness of my situation, and then it all came back inside. All those people in the 154th were dead, jarheads were missing from that group...including my sister. But I didn't have time to be worried.

I could hear the clacking of heels outside the room and after that, two men with what appeared to be P90 submachine guns entered. I recognized them as mercenary contractors from the Praetorian Division, the largest such company in the world at the time. They had on the old school black armor suits and hats, as if they were from one of the many bad sci-fi movies I watched. It was amazing how much in the military looked like it belonged in some space-age film noir.

The door opened again and in walked the first person I wanted to talk to: Helena Sorenson. This woman was starting to drive me nuts with all her _convenient_ appearances, but she was the best source of information. I wasn't sure if she actually liked talking to me, but it appeared she had quite an intimate knowledge of the way I behaved. But oddly, I didn't think much of it at the time. She seemed like a _humid type _of person, one that just hovered around a little too long. Sorenson wasn't a slouch in the knowledge department, though.

She came in with her authoritative walk, but time there was no body armor. It was lacy stockings, conservative black skirt and chocolate and midnight blazer. This woman obviously spent a lot of money on the same brands of expensive clothes. She had to get the skirt and the blazer from the A'hursir chain on Rodeo Drive in Hollywood or one Casur Avenue's many stores in South Oured. Lillian often shopped there a lot. I had to hand it to her. She still wanted to preserve her sense of fashion in this place. Some part of me should have found the getup inappropriate. The Yukes had lost many of the things they held dear in all these weeks and months of war, most people didn't have time to dress properly. Now this Mrs. Sorenson was flaunting her expensive aesthetics in a war torn country. It was more amusing than inapt.

"Ah, you and I just cannot stop crossing paths, can we?" she said with a strange smile. She signaled the guards and they walked out of the room. Then it was just me and her; I was in a hospital suit, she was in business casual. It was just too weird to be real.

"What's going on here?" I said. I demanded answers, but from her reserved facial expressions told me something inside her understood that even before I even asked.

"What is this place?" I asked. She had a difference of four inches between us, but I was not intimidating in any way; no, not in a hospital gown.

She said, "We call it the Quiet Room. This conversation will not be recorded, listened or viewed by order of the Department of Defense."

"How did you manage that?" I asked. Sorenson sat down and beckoned me to do the same. I did.

"Pulled a few strings with friends in Bright Hill and the Pentagon." Sorenson said, tapping her finger on the top of the phone. "You're probably wondering, why I brought you here."

I wasn't sure how to respond at the moment. I shouldn't have been concerned, but I started to tumble out words, "I seem to be…"

"A hot commodity," Sorensen interrupted, "That's what you are. Everybody wants you, and it's all the wrong people."

"I can see that." I said, "I want some answers here. My sister's missing and God help the enemy if they did something to her!"

Sorenson opened one of the manila folders. "Relax. She's alright, as far as we know. But her company was wiped out by a biochemical attack. Several were found and hidden by locals, some found their way back to the lines and others are still missing."

"What?!"

"She made contact with friendly lines an hour ago. As of now, she's finishing up her debrief with the Battalion people from 1st Marines, and is on her way back to the lines." She said.

I breathed a much needed sigh of relief. Sorenson showed me a satellite map of the area.

"IEDs were laced with Seelow Rot and were placed along the MSR where your sister's company was. Then again, others were placed around the area your company was. Coincidence? I think not. They knew enough about you guys that they made a guess as where you'd be. A frighteningly accurate assessment, if I do say so myself." Sorenson said, getting up and walking around the room as she spoke.

I found myself distracted by the nylon pantyhose she wore; attractive, but still out of place. I could tell those things cost a pretty penny; the micro mesh was a dead giveaway. My mother would have loved to have those, but she'd only wear them on Valentine's Day.

Then, Sorenson turned back to me with a serious look, "Then again, it wouldn't have mattered if you were hit. You have a defense against it."

It was like a bomb hit me on the head. I could barely speak. "What?"

Sorenson came back to the chair, "We've never had this situation in the military before and no one, outside the Pentagon, knows what to do."

Sorenson looked over the notes in the folders, "I can't tell you everything. But the reason the enemy has been kidnapping people is because there is a percentage of the world's population with a unique genetic disorder. You and your sister are among those people."

I said, "When I was a baby, doctors told my mother they thought I had retinoblastoma. They looked into it and they'd never seen it before. My eyesight had _overdeveloped_. It was a rare thing, something they called Octostoma."

Sorenson smiled wide and said, "Yes, a clever deception."

My eyes bulged, "What?"

Sorenson produced a set of files with me and my sister's name on it. "You and Tasha's genetic defects were misdiagnosed as part of a greater problem. There was some government project from 2007 to 2010 where certain childless military personnel were injected with a mutagen designed to enhance certain areas of their anatomical and behavioral patterns. Basically, they were trying to make stronger and smarter people. But the project was a disaster. Only five percent of the people tested noticed any significant increase in cognitive or physical abilities. Here's the problem…your parents were members of that five percent."

"Oh, I see. That's why they were such good pilots." I said. I shouldn't have been surprised.

Sorenson showed a series of lab reports, "The tests did show a heightened sense of situational awareness in at least 17 Osean fighter pilots. Subsequently, all seventeen were multiple victory aces. Only five are still alive: your parents, Cormorance Alou, and two others. Then we found out the tests had been expanded to civilians. But since a lot of people are immigrants, there's no telling how widespread the tests were."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "And this was allowed by the government?"

"We only _just _found out this stuff. Those records and the Versuan your company found were invaluable. If not, we would have never found out the true extent of this problem. The enemy has detailed records of everyone who tested positive for this genetic defect." she said.

"Wait…does that mean Tasha and I were injected with this stuff?"

"No, the test was cancelled in 2014 when the administration changed. This new gene had actually developed in the _children_ of those originally injected with the mutagen. They called it the 0234M. That's why not a single person on the list that was born before 2010."

"What does this mean?"

"This gene actually is a defense against Seelow Rot. The powers in charge have been investigating the virus for some time. We still have much we don't know. But…" Sorenson said, stretching out the word _but_ a little too much, "It seems your sister, in her short sojurn…has located someone of use to us: a woman with significant knowledge of this project and this new strand of virus that's shown up."

I kinda perked up, "So, you're saying that I'm immune to this virus?"

"I wouldn't go that far. But the enemy apparently has been in a panic about this for weeks. It would seem that any defense against the Seelow is bad news…which scares me even more than this mysterious second strand of the Rot."

Sorenson took a deep breath, "Frankly, I blame President Shelley for this. She was always too hotheaded, even more than President Cohen. I'm good friends with her as a matter of fact, and truthfully…I think she screwed up on this one." She said. At this point, I didn't even bother asking questions.

_How so?_

"I'm not afraid of criticizing people to their faces and if I were in Bright Hill right now, I'd be furious. I completely understand why people are protesting this war." she said, looking away.

_Come again?_

She turned her almost purple metal eyes to me, "She was too impulsive. She sent the military in without adequate information about this plague, or where the people's loyalties lied, and now the death toll's over a thousand. Now news of this cover up has leaked to the public. Oured's in turmoil right now. Their famous war hero/columnist, that Lillian Izzo, has been captured by the enemy."

_Oh shit_, I thought.

"The Soma also captured six other Marines from the 154th including the daughter of her…fiancée, Helena Southerland…a very popular figure in South Osea. You sister was thought to be the seventh, but apparently she's fine now. Viola's taking a lot of heat."

I was kind of surprised that she called the president by her first name, but I still wondered what association Viola Shelley had with Helena Sorenson. Mrs. Sorenson didn't _look _like she was ex-military. Or maybe she was. One of the reasons Shelley got elected was her prior war experience back in 2016. If I knew what Sorenson's age was, I could gauge what their friendship actually was.

But it was heartbreaking though. I met Ms. Southerland once when Tasha, Dulcinea and I went to Oured. Lillian was with her at the time, but I didn't know the two were dating. At the time, none of us were in the military. Dulcinea hadn't even gotten into her drunken driving accident, that didn't happen until late September. Tasha had just gotten dumped _again_. Carile Southerland was still in high school. I didn't know Lillian and Southerland were a couple until they kissed right in front of me. It was unexpected, but not shocking. I mean, I'd known from my childhood that Lillian swung the other way.

Two weeks before I went to Recon School, I took another trip with Tasha to Oured. Tasha and I had finished basic and had some time to kill before she went to Infantry School and I to the Recon Indoc. Again, we stayed with Lillian. Unfortunately, Lillian and Helena were a little too frisky that first night. To which Carile said, "It takes a little getting used to." But generally speaking, the one thing that struck me was how happy Carile was for her mother. She was overjoyed, especially since her childhood was pretty brutal. What also surprised me was Carile trying her best to flirt with me. It was the empirical evidence that Carile wasn't a dyke.

I liked Carile. She was sweet, gregarious, and she never had a problem with anyone. In her high school, however, she had a reputation for being sexually confused. I knew she was misunderstood. Her problem was that she was too touchy-feely, much like her soon to be stepmother back when my parents fought in Verusa. In fact, to be honest, had I not dated Dulcinea, there was a strong chance I would have ended up dating Carile and she would have never joined the Marines in the first place. In fact, I was the only person who knew exactly why Carile even joined the Corps in the first place!

She was tired of being treated like a prissy girl which actually, given her personality, was a well deserved stereotype. I wondered if she was too embarrassed to admit it to Tasha, someone who my sister said looked up to her.

Now she and Lillian were missing, and I knew all too well what the Hazri thought of the opposite sex. I was making me sick to my stomach. It was bad enough Lucy was harmed by them; then there was Sueltana, Jakob…now Lillian and Carile. I was pissed off. I hoped we got a shot to go rescue them. _How sweet would be_, I thought…_a revenge fueled rescue mission?_ I couldn't handle the _thought_ of my sister being captured; even more people I cared about were in peril and I was enraged. I had to get through this first and pray they were alright. At least Tasha was okay.

"Goddamn. That's just _great_. Now what?" I said, angry.

"Well, that's all I wanted to say. But I see why the enemy wants you. You're unique. You're a talented young man. You would be a great asset to our business." She looked right into my eyes with this creepy stare.

"Excuse me?" I said. The entire switch was cold and quick. It felt so odd to switch from my emotions to this.

"You could leave the military right now and make an entry level job; more like sales or customer service. Then you could move up with a little more school and a little drive, in twenty years you could be running an entire Branch." _Oh, I see_...I thought.

My mind was moving faster than a hummingbird's wings. Then my brain came up on a weird thought and for a minute, I didn't think about what was appropriate or not.

"Wait…your company, a _weapons_ company…has a customer service line?" I said while laughing, "What do you do? Take complains all day about how the latest Stinger missile line is defective or whenever something jams we have to take them through a clean install or something?"

"I guess." Helena said, unable to contain her laughter.

My mood returned to normal, but other than that moment, I never counted being furious as normal. "My mom would kill me if I went to work for you. It's anathema to her."

Sorenson put her arms on the table and folded her hands. "Your mother sounds like a bright woman. She's certainly raised a fine young man like you."

"Oh, she's pretty smart. She's got at least a 180 IQ; about forty points on my dad."

Sorenson smiled again. Her purplish eyes were set off against the gray table, "Would you like to speak to them? In real time?"

"What do you mean?"

Helena reached into the nearby briefcase she had and pulled out a rather fancy laptop computer. This thing _had_ to cost more than five thousand because my mother had a much more simple computer, and it cost nearly twenty five hundred. The computer had a pretty red tint and almost pearly silver coloring all over the top of it.

"This is my personal webcam network platform. Only the top execs at H Corp get access to it. This computer is the Pallard-Ecks VAX-13 model. It's not supposed to hit the streets for eight months. I think you may enjoy talking your folks on this thing." She said.

I remembered that we were at least eight to nine hours behind Osea. It was about 1930, so that meant that it was about 1130 hours back home. And it was a Saturday, and that meant that they stayed at home and just lounged around the house. I was thankful it was it wasn't Friday night, as I _loathed_ to called mom and dad on their designated…romantic evening. I wasn't sure how Lucy was holding up at the moment but I had to assume she was alright. It was no better time.

"Okay, fire it up." I said.

Sorenson input some numbers and the address into the computer. It took about three or four minutes to bring it all up online. I just hoped my dad remembered to leave the damn computer on like mom always said to do. Finally, we got an image. Darkness. They hadn't received the signal yet. The computer was upstairs in their room, where they were most likely to be but I imagine with Astrid and Lucy in the same house…something that was _most likely_ was not going to be the case. It took a few minutes, but finally there was an image of my mother walking past the computer screen…as if I wasn't even there! She had on this black tank shirt and black, wide legged pajama pants that almost looked like a cloth version of bell-bottoms from the 1970s. Of course, my mother looked rather emaciated sometimes and it was strange to see her dress like she was thirty and not fifty. I just laughed.

Then, my mom _finallly _turned, having heard my laughter and ran over unaware of my webcam presence.

"Hello?" she said.

"Mom! It's me!" I shouted into the receiver.

My mother rarely lost her mind. This was one of those times she did. "Oh my god! What happened to you?! I heard you were back in Bethlehem Park. Are you alright? Is Tasha okay? We're…"

_No wonder she didn't notice me_, "Mom, please lay off the coffee."

"Sorry, but…I'm worried sick! At this rate, I'm going to lose half the hair on my head because of this."

"Mom, calm down. Look Tasha's fine. I have no idea what happened to her, but she's alive."

Just as my mom heard that, she started yelling for my dad in her highest pitch voice; though it was more like a shrill that could shatter glass. Then, my thick, charcoal haired father walked over to the screen. He was actually shirtless and it was rather…awkward. Blaze had let himself go a little bit, but he didn't have a gut or anything. He just wasn't the strong, statuesque man he was long ago. My parents…

"Thank god. I thought she'd be treated horribly if she were a POW. Now all she needs to do is dump that rat bastard for a boyfriend." My dad said.

My mother slapped my dad in the arm, "David! You promised you wouldn't say anything about him until…"

My dad came back, "I'm serious honey! That guy is bad news for Tasha. I told you two weeks ago!"

Then my mother lowered to that criticizing tone of hers; that softer, angrier voice she had mastered, "But our daughter doesn't need any more distractions right now!"

Finally, I had to cut in, "Mom! Dad! Calm down! Let _me_ do the fighting."

"Sorry about that." They said in a spread out unison.

"So, how are things at home?" I asked, "What about Lucy? Astrid?"

And then my mother went on this entire caffeinated dog and pony show and my father just smiled and rolled his eyes from time to time…

"…I mean do you have any idea what's going on!? It's unbelievable! Lillian's missing. Ms. Southerland's daughter is missing; that poor woman's going through hell right now. Ally's house got broken into, it's awful. Then Lucy's having a hard time communicating, but I guess it's hard to talk when you have NO TONGUE! Not to mention these shady people from H-Corp driving around town in black vans."

_Oh no, not again._ "What?" I asked.

"Allow me to explain." Sorenson said, coming around the other side of the computer. I had to admit, this woman was good. She knew how to cut in at the right time.

My mother put on a scowl, "Who the hell are you?"

Politely, my associate responded, "My name is Helena Sorenson, executive of Military Personnel Affairs for Hephaestus Corporation in addition to being the acting liaison with the Osean Marine Corps Experimental Division, aka Power Recon."

She gave my dad this disapproving look and laughed with a sarcastic tone, "Oh, looks like we have another corporate lapdog in a blazer…how cute."

"Mom! Would you stay off on the anti-corporate line for once?" I said. I'd had enough.

"I understand your reticence towards my business, Mrs. Black. I am more than a simple figurehead and as such, I understand my role is to be a punching bag at times. But I think you and I are a lot more alike than you think. You see, I too was a service woman. But I didn't get to join the air force. On the contrary, for ten years I was an officer in the Marine Corps' 1st Marine Expeditionary Force…"

"Whoa, you were in the MEF?" I interrupted.

"Yes. I was a Cobra gunner along with my partner Gordon; our call sign was Nail 27. We saw action overseas during the Versuan Oil Crisis of 2025. And right now, I am trying to help clean up the mess made by evil people, corporate people…like me."

My mother raised an eyebrow, then she did that _quiver-open thing_ with her lips whenever she was embarrassed, "My apologies. I'm not used to dealing with…corporate people with an actual sense of right and wrong before. We've met some pretty greedy, evil empires."

"Of course. I was telling your son how I am aware of who you really are. But, Mrs. Nagase…well, may I call you that?"

My parents were stunned. My dad almost leaned back in chair…and nearly fell out of it in alarm.

My mom sighed through gritted teeth. "Go ahead. At this point, it doesn't matter anymore."

Oddly, I was not surprised by this at all. The enemy had plenty of knowledge about me anyway, why would it be unreasonable that Sorenson knew who my parents really were?

"Have you not painted my industry with a broad brush? There are many people in our world who are good people, who work tirelessly for the Osean Dream."

Soreson went into full story mode, "Let me tell you a story. There's a woman back in Oured who works in our IT Department. When she started out, she was a young immigrant from Yuktobania, a Hazri Yuke tired of being treated like a doormat. She had nothing: grew up homeless, digging out of dumpsters, and trying to stay alive. She worked for years trying to get a better job for her and her children. She started in the mail room, working her way up, through college, and eventually ended up working in our E-trade server department. If that's not the Osean Dream, then I don't know what it is."

My mother came with a counterattack to the passive hostility from Sorenson's story.

"Then why does your company sell weapons to aggressor states? Why do you use a mercenary company involved with human rights violations to protect yourselves?" said my mother.

Sorenson replied, "That's not my job. My job is to make sure the right people, like your son, get the right tools to kill the wrong people. And we do deal with shady people. But mostly, they are the enemies of our enemies. It's a vicious, necessary evil."

"Then why did this happen? How did we get to the point where war has become this easy to declare, as if we were children calling places in a house?" My mother said.

"…because of you and your husband's heroics all those years ago. My father worshiped you guys back in the old days. He was a company commander in the Ferdelance Armored Brigade."

My parents were stunned. They looked back and forth at each other, and finally my dad spoke, "What?! Your father was…"

"Hell yeah. Lion to the Death." Sorenson said. She actually sounded _moto_, which was just…awkward. But that would explain her kinship to Shelley…in a way. But what the hell did _Lion to the Death_ mean?

Then my father erupted, "Are you kidding me?! I think I talked to him on the radio back then during Desert Blitz!"

Sorenson smiled, "Oh, he never forgot it. He wanted to name one his of kids after you, but he decided against it. He thought it'd be too disrespectful."

Then my father had a strange smile on his face when he looked at my mother then back at Mrs. Sorenson, "Well, all because of us. Well, I think I understand now. We won't bother you anymore, Mrs. Sorenson."

"What? What is she talking about?" For once, Kei Nagase was almost speechless. There was no intelligent response to this one. She had this awkward look on her face, as if one side of her head weighed more than the other. It was like her brain had overclocked and in a perfect humor world, smoke would pour out of her ears.

"I'll explain later. Brandon, tell your sister we love her, we miss her and what not. Take care of yourself." My dad said.

"Love you guys." I said.

My mother was shocked. She kept pestering at my dad, "Wait, David, I want some answers from this…"

Silence. My dad cut off the webcam and I just laughed. I was almost on the floor laughing, it was that funny.

"Well, that was quite…entertaining." Sorenson said, smiling, "Your mother really is quite a bright person."

"She's smarter than my old man, she's only right _sometimes_." I said, shaking my head.

"Why do you say that?"

"That's because my dad's _always_ right." I said.

***

Sorenson had a phone call all of the sudden. With a quick click-clack of her black heels, Sorenson took her manila folder and left the room. I knew Dulcinea had a computer phone set up in her area, so I figured with a little call I could lasso one of the others to let me speak to her.

Once Sorenson had left the room, there entered another…more familiar person a minute later. He was dressed from head to toe in an impeccable charcoal suit. He seemed attractive for a man. The black haired gentleman looked like he was in his late thirties, but he certainly had a movie star quality to him. He was built too, probably a 40 or 42 waist. It was the same guy from the two times I saw him before. Then…I started to kick myself. I should have recognized him back then. I hadn't seen him in years and rightfully so. He was a jet setter alright. He came in with an usual authority.

It was the infamous Ammon Kaida. I didn't recognize him though. He had a few scars on his face, his hair was a different shade of black. He wasn't wearing the sunglasses, nor was a fan of the business suits. I knew him from my childhood. He often visited Cormorance Alou and traded barbs with my mother, whom he considered a _friendly rival_.

Kei Nagase _hated _Ammon Kaida. Of course, I long knew the story about the airport incident with his ex-wife when she was pregnant with me and Tasha. But that was just one minor thing in a list of things that ticked my mom off about him. Kaida had often made himself a target with his arrogance and his greed.

Kaida, the deceased Andrew Fisch, and former Versuan pilot Emmanuelle Ganda were part of the 5th Tactical Squadron from Spade Six Inc., the subject of book criticizing private military contractors (PMC) called _War Incorporated _co-written by two reporters: the daughter of a Belkan fighter ace, Elizabeth Dietrich, and I wasn't shocked when, surprise, surprise…Lillian Izzo had her name on the cover as well.

But my mother hated Kaida because he was the antithesis of my dad. He was a bounder, an unscrupulous man. While under employment from Spade Six, he and his previously mentioned comrades were employed by the Osean Merc Company Spade Six.

And what _great _things did they do in that time? They worked for corrupt arms dealers, participated in fighter missions against Emmerian drug enforcement ships for Estovakia, shot down a plane carrying Ustio humanitarian aid in the 2021 Fato Crisis, and in addition they blew away fifteen Sapin fighters protecting food rations. And that was just the stuff in the _book_! Or at least…that's why my mother told me.

Of course, I knew that book also led to the breakup of the Spade Six Corporation (I learned that in National History in high school), but the principle members couldn't be tried for anything! Maxmillian Rizzuto, the CEO as well as Kaida, Michael Spiegel, Desmond Spence and Emmanuelle Ganda, all of them were red handed with some of the most terrible, bloody, almost _terrorist_ acts known to modern world…

They all had diplomatic immunity! Fisch had died two years prior to the scandal.

And now, the capricious Kaida found himself working for the Praetorian Division. He'd tossed his business card on the desk.

"I didn't think our paths would ever cross again." He said. "I remember when you were a little boy. Your mother told me I was an evil man."

"Of course. Considering how much my mother hated you, I guess that would be rather apt." I replied. I did have a lot of contempt for this man, but not the burning hatred my parents had.

"You're just as smart as your old man _and_ your mother too…even though she's a naïve, liberal twit." He said.

"Well, according to her…you dumped your wife in public to peruse a mercenary life of beautiful women, fast cars and easy money."

Kaida sat down in the chair, "To be serious, what I did all those years ago, it was the very paradigm of everything she doesn't believe in, that's why she was so pissed at me. Then again, she hates mercenaries of any kind. She thinks they're soulless killers."

Not to mention that he jilted not only his first wife…but his second. Not to mention the fact he had several illegitimate kids, none of which he claimed. He leveraged his skills against other PMCs for higher contracts. Not even Rico Lazarus was _this_ much of an asshole.

I knew, but for then I decided to play dumb. "Are you?"

He pulled out a small coin and twirled it around in his fingers, "Yes. I've found that having morals to an extent is helpful in a world of ambiguous war. For over eighteen years, I've been all over the planet fighting in every war imaginable, dated and slept with countless beautiful women and made millions of dollars…and I don't regret one bit of it."

Now, I had to give Kaida _some_ credit. He wasn't _that _brutal of a mercenary. He publicly admitted his role in the 2021 Fato Crisis during the original congressional hearings. He didn't drop bombs on innocent people. Truth be told, back then Osea was in an unusual position with the PMC Empire whose slippery free trade agreements and diplomatic immunity made them extremely greasy dealmakers. They opposed Osean interests in exchange for top coin for Bright Hill and the government. Well, when the book came out…most of that ended. It was often called the Cohen Folly, since President Cohen allowed such egregious business tactics to occur on their watch. But none of the guilty people had to pay any price for it. Everyone made out like bandits and the people in Fato were screwed…and who in Osea really gave a crap about Fato outside the shrinking liberal media?

Now, most of this was what my mother told me…and some of it was trumped up from her biased point of view about men like Kaida. But, Corporate Osea wasn't to blame for the Cohen-Spade Six scandal. That's why my mother and I could never agree on.

I wanted to know what truly made Kaida tick: no liberal bias, straight from the horse's mouth.

"Is that a normal life to you? Going from woman to woman, never being comfortable wherever you are or having the patience for a family?" I asked.

He said, "The hell is that? Soccer games and barbeques, saying _honey, I love you_…forget that. I couldn't stand it. I'm a high energy person…I don't have time for dealing with regular stuff. So I put my son up for adoption and got the hell out of there."

"Jesus, man." I said. _All of the more reason to settle down with Dulcinea_, I thought.

PMCs were universally hated, and in the Marine Corps, you'd find no shortage of disgust. This was for two reasons. First, the PMCs had a rather earned reputation of being extremely undisciplined, and for all the idiots, criminals and psychopaths the Marine Corps actually had, they only consisted of maybe five to eight percent of the branch. Oddly, it was from the Army where the PMCs were recruiting like crazy. Second, the PMCs had no identity at all. In the past, when Spade Six and BOC had monopolies on the soldier for hire trade, PMCs actually had strict enlistment regulations. But in 2029, the PMC empires broke apart and dozens of smaller companies were formed, Praetorian being the largest. And since regulation and oversight went out the window, every country could have their own PMC army and there were many instances where PMC fought PMC in bloody, bloody wars, especially in Wellow and Erusea. Truth was: Kaida and his bunch were _least_ of the world's problems.

Kaida continued, "But the most important thing is to know what you are. You've got to have an identity. That's how you succeed or at least come close. What about you? What is your identity, Brandon Lovecraft? Why did _you_ become a soldier?"

This was my chance to present my case for my view of war. To be honest, I had a feeling he'd laugh at it. But his view of war, some twenty years of experience in armed conflict. Hey, he was speaking like my mother. She said the same thing to me just many days earlier.

"I wanted to be the hero. I wanted to be the one with the medals and news stories. I wanted to help feed people and save lives. I wanted to know my life helped others. Plus I was interested in the cool gadgets and stuff, but mostly I wanted to be like my dad. He wanted to be the best soldier he could, the ace…the hero. That's probably why he had such good karma. Maybe that's what keeping me alive."

"Bullshit!" Kaida said, "That is the biggest myth I've ever heard. _I want to be a hero_. Please! You and your sister don't fall far from the tree. Christ, I've heard of generic dreams…but _goddamn_!"

I knew it, "What's wrong with that? Isn't that an identity? That's why I joined."

Kaida pointed his finger at me then put it down in frustration. His breathing was that of a raged individual, his actions suggested he knew everything I believed in was a foolish endeavor.

"You wanted to be a hero, and you joined the Marines to do that. Let me tell you something _Brandon Lovecraft_," Kaida said, his grave contempt dripping from his words, "I've been in dozens of conflicts and there are men like you for a dime a dozen. And you know what? Heroes always die first."

I couldn't react at first. He continued on with his rambling, flawed philosophy on war.

"A guy like you is the worst kind of would-be hero. You want to be remembered more than being a hero. Your problem starts with the very definition of the word."

Why was I hearing shades of Alphonso in his speech? It was just like the Sapinian on that hill outside Mogani. But _those_ weren't the ideas of some selfish, disenfranchised antisocial mercenary.

I replied, "My old man told me heroism was like love. It was hard to define but if you saw it…you knew it. I never said it was easy."

Kaida shifted in his chair a bit, leaning closer to me. "You have a girlfriend, right?"

I answered, "Yes."

"Do you want to marry her some day? Have kids?"

It was an a question that I'd thought a long time about. No one in my company had asked me such a question with that seriousness of a tone. Not even Sheck or Alphonso. They sort of did that, but the reason was that most things in the military were taken lightly. Considering the amount of time I spent with my girlfriend and all the times I wished I could touch her or hear her voice…I didn't hesitate in my answer.

"Yes."

Kaida's next sentence was too calm. It was almost frightening. "Then you're not a hero. You want these things…and in order to have them you have to believe there is only one ultimate rule of war…survival. Heroes are self sacrificing…and therefore, we have a logical fallacy."

"Heroes do exist. They survive, _Kaida_." I said, returning the sarcastic serve.

Kaida shook his head and laughed, "Okay. You survive the war. But you're not a hero. You're a hypocrite. The thing is, you can't have it both ways. You can't think about heroism and survival at the same time. Survival is all about you; heroism is all about someone else. See, someone like you only wants the accolades from everyone and none of the consequences. Most of the people who dream of being the savior end up in the grave. Thinking of life _and_ death isn't an option. You're just selfish, but then again…there's nothing wrong with that. But you can't be a hero."

This was turning into some dumb soliloquy. I could tell. It all seemed like some kind of manifesto for nihilism. It was almost ironic that a person who could play both sides of a war could view heroism and villainess as completely black and white.

So I finally said, "I was brought up to believe in what I do. I think you _can_ have it both ways. Everything's subjective. You fought in wars for money. Your view of heroism is biased, wouldn't you think?"

"Most nineteen year olds don't even think such thoughts." Kaida said.

"I never said I was a genius. I just had plenty of brains raising me." I replied.

Kaida got up out of the chair and began to walk away. "War is a valueless thing; a terrible, inhuman business. The only way it can mean something is that if you believe it before _and_ after you leave the war. The problem: no one in the history of war has been able to do that."

And like most borderline sociopaths, his mood changed at a scary speed. "You're nineteen years old! Am I _really_ supposed to believe a guy like you when it comes to heroism? A year ago, you were in _high school_! You had prom, final exams, graduation, and stupid things that were a good idea at the time. Now you've got a gun and you're thousands of miles away with a mandate to kill whoever shoots at you? Stop trying to be your old man, goddamn it! You're _never_ going to be Blaze."

He pointed at some random area in the room. "You should have emulated Micho's old man. Comorance was only focused on the mission. He was a better pilot than your father during the Versuan War. He was only concerned with survival and mission completion…that's it! You on the other hand…"

I didn't speak at all.

"You're just one number in a line of digits from some unsolvable equation. _That_, my friend, is war itself in a nutshell. War is an endless process that chews up and spits out its raw material. You're left stripped of all you believe and all you're left with is just the husk of your soul. History is nothing but a trash can of failed heroes." He said, finally leaving the room.

I wasn't sure what the hell Kaida was talking about. He talked out of both sides of his mouth. I _knew_ I wasn't an exception. It'd had been beaten into my head since boot camp. Hell, I wasn't the only one the Soma's scientists wanted. I dismissed it all as the words of a selfish, desensitized man. He viewed the bigger picture of heroism with a cynical eye, an unsurprising thing really. He was not a soldier who fought for anything meaningful outside money. He had been a believer in something at one point in his life.

He had the right to say that war was a nonsensical equation, a limitless machine of absurdity. He'd been in wars. But he had no right to lecture me. After all, he stripped away his morals faster than he could undress a single, attractive girl in some war torn country for a one night thrill. He'd abandoned his pregnant wife and his friends for the PMC ranks, therefore relinquishing his right to elaborate on heroism.

Judging from the way he conducted his life, he was a devious, immature, albeit high energy, person. He at one point fought for something back in 2016 Versua, which made his switch rather confusing to me. However, perhaps Kaida was always an amoral person hiding behind a sycophantic shield when he fought for the corrupt, greedy White Crow party.

If he wasn't a hero, then _why_ did he defect to the Allied Forces in the first place? Was it merely for his _own_ survival? Or maybe something _did _happen during that war to him to lose his principles.

Be that as it may, he still fought in countless wars for straight cash. He never had to witness a group of Jaair Yuke boys beat a girl to death because she dared to be independent. One would think he'd be more humble about the viciousness of war. But no, he, after all these years, he was nothing more than a hedonistic, arrogant soldier of fortune. He _was_ honest about who he was. He had never tried to be anything else.

But then again, my parents never claimed to be anything else. I thought, _then should I_?

If I believed Kaida was a fraud, why shouldn't I continue to be the hero? At that point, I didn't even care about the virus or the Soma. My job was to be the best soldier I could be and save the Yuktobanian people, Hazri or not, from this Seelow scourge and the psychos that the Hazri called their army.

You could probably think Kaida was more ignorant of his stature than hypocritical. Give her credit, but Helena Sorenson didn't seem too fond of this Praetorian Division back when I first met her: _Bullies with guns, that's all they are._

But there was one thing Kaida couldn't take into account. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, and even though she didn't want me to die, I knew Dulcinea would understand if I had to die to be a hero. In a way, Dulcinea and my mother were frighteningly alike. It was like I'd gone back in time and I'd been in my father's war with the same country, advanced weapons, and different problems.

And we were still heroes.

***

_**Tasha**_

**_Somewhere in Severja_**

**September 6, 2037**

**2200 hrs**

Before I could celebrate the first few hours of the new Alice Lovecraft, I had to return to the lines. It was actually pretty easy, but such things are uncomplicated when an entire enemy division retreats to the east of your position. Zarolslav had traded her high heels for tennis shoes for the moment. We almost got lit up upon approaching the lines. Fortunately, I had a set of IR chemical lights and followed my training where you'd make a certain hand motion to indicate friendly. If the unit from 3/5 had been Recon, we would have had no incident. (Alpha Company was there by chance placed right where we approached.)

They brought us in for questioning by the Battalion staff.

I knew why no one knew or cared about the S-2 people. They, for the most part, were annoying as hell. Granted, they were intelligent people; however, all those goddamn questions were enough to make me throw a chair at someone! I wasn't captured by the enemy anyway and through luck or misfortune, depending upon who was asked, I'd scored this major intelligence boost.

Ivanava was a good sport about it and had a lot more patience than I did. Or maybe it was the Battalion _spooks _(as Marine S-2 people were often called) were a little more patient with _her_. Of course, I don't think they were aware she had some…extra equipment downstairs. I didn't even think they cared she was a scientist. I told her before the meeting to suck on a lollypop or something just to screw with their heads. Just the mental image alone had me cracked up the entire time I waited for Zarolslav's interrogation to end.

After taking up nearly an hour and half of my sweet time, I couldn't be gladder to get out. The entire military had ground to a halt as our torrid advance had left us short in tooth logistics wise. In thirteen days, the Allied army had retaken almost half the country. The other half was the problem. From the Jilachi Desert to Cinigrad and north from the sand into the Highlands…our enemies had their game faces on and were dug in deep. But things were looking up. One of the spooks let loose that there'd been an assassination attempt on that Musharak asshole. Talk about an incompetent assassin.

Once the questions were done, we were driven back to the Division HQ where many of the survivors of the chemical attack were located. And _many_…weren't really many at all. There were only ten survivors accounted for, me included. All I knew was that Lillian wasn't dead and six were unaccounted for.

I hoped Xanthia was alive. I asked but the spooks and the officers were a little brash to shoot down _my_ questions in favor of _their _retarded ones. I was pissed off even more than I was earlier when I finally awoke to my true self. The only thing was to find out who was alive and who wasn't. I had a few loose ends to sever.

The MP who drove us was this rather nice guy, a one Lieutenant Katz. Katz actually was good buddies with my brother's platoon commanders, that Dickerson guy. He talked about his brother who was a multiple victory ace in this war. Before they were born, his father was in some Marine unit that worshiped my parents' exploits in the first war in this country. Of course, he didn't know Blaze was my father. Katz did say I looked a little like him, something to which I blushed. He went on about how he loved his job.

_Why couldn't I get this guy as my platoon leader?_

It took nearly fifteen minutes of night driving to get back to the Division area. There were a ton of people around, strange activity for night. They'd actually set up where Power Recon was when Severja was invaded the first time. Three or four days of fighting, and we moved back even _further_ than we were originally.

"It was weird," Katz said, "Recon just _vanished _from their position in Mogani. They deployed east to the Jilachi outskirts. They didn't even leave any trash behind, it was quite strange."

Now 1st Marines had a staggered salient because of Recon abandoning their position and deploying to the toughest job in the war, taking the Jilachi Desert, about half of the Hazri's Holy land. Katz let us out and Ivanava and I stepped around the oddly active camp. Just as I did, I was swarmed into the arms of several comrades. I was greeted by Thomas and White who were just as overjoyed to see me as I was of them. We jumped around like silly kids while Ivanava smoked and laughed. Once that was over, I looked up and saw the silhouettes of _just_ the two people I wanted to see: Charles and Jason.

"Charles!" I shouted, breaking the others' embrace.

I walked up to Charles, but he didn't hug me. He just stood there in utter amazement. "Holy crap, the bitch is alive!"

Just as Charles said that…a bewildered Sergeant Barclay from HQ Company came up to me and said, "Hey, Tasha! Where the in the hell were you?! God, Briscoe's dead…just everyone's dead. Carly's missing, but they think she's still alive. Xanthia's alive, but she's somewhere around here."

I was at a loss of words for at least ten seconds. I shook my head and tried to maintain my disposition. But Briscoe was in the command victor…along with Lieutenant Finch…and Southerland! I kept my cool for a moment when the words, "_Xanthia's alive, but she's somewhere around here,"_ reached my brain. "Zanne's made it!?"

Barclay said. "Hell yeah. But my question is," said White, "who happened to YOU? And who the heck is this lady?"

Everyone turned to Ivanava with cynical faces. My new acquaintance started on another cigarette when she finally noticed we were all staring at her. But I spoke first…

"I…got saved by _this_ awesome woman." I said, grabbing her by the arm.

"Who the hell are you?" Jason said.

She breathed out some secondhand smoke and spoke, "My name is Dr. Ivanava Zarolslav, biophysicist and-"

"You look like a drag queen." Charles interrupted. Now I was pissed, but it seemed Sergeant Barclay spoke for him. I sometimes forgot I wasn't the only person that was a little steamed at Charles' antics.

"Corporal Ellerbe, would you shut up and let the woman talk!" he said.

After Charles backed off, Zarolslav laughed. "I happen to be an expert on the Seelow Rot virus, particularly on how it was created and who created it."

"Um…wow. This chick looks like a marionette dancer from some gay club in South Oured, but she might actually know her stuff." Charles said.

I don't know what made me do it, but I grabbed Charles' hand as he pointed to her.

"Charles. Enough." I said. Ellerbe was taken aback by my action, as if he was shocked I'd be a little angry at the disrespectful way he talked to the only person who could help the Allies solve the virus problem.

"Whoa…what's your goddamn problem, Tasha!? Look, I know this is a stressful time for all of us, but don't take it out on everybody else."

I gritted my teeth and pushed Charles into the ground, "Shut up! I don't want to hear anything from you until we get this doctor squared away, you got that?!"

I could tell my inner nastiness had struck a _serious_ chord when Barclay had to separate us. Charles had gotten up looking to fight me, but he had no idea why I was so _freaking_ pissed off with him. Jason even tried to drag me away and I nearly cold clocked him, I was so furious with both of them.

"What the hell's going on with you guys? Cool it!" Barclay shouted.

My lips were dry and I slowly unballed my fists. Charles finally relented as well. But it seems the others were taken aback, as if they'd witnessed something horrible in a movie. The slowly backed away from us, confused and shocked. My heart rate went down a little bit.

"Whoa…I've never seen Tasha _this_ angry." Thomas said.

"Yikes." White said, walking away. What was it they saw in my eyes that caused such panic? I had no idea. I must have the look of an animal; a look the likes of which no one had seen before. I'd been pissed off before, but not like this. My head was spinning.

Barclay waited until the others left. "Okay, relax tough girl. We'll get her back to the Division spooks. They'll know what to do."

"Thanks." I said. Ivanava approached me and put her arm around me.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye." She said.

"Thanks for saving my life, Ivanava." I replied.

"No problem, Alice. Good luck to you and your friends here. You're going to need it." Zarolslav said.

She then bent forward and kissed me on the cheek, an action I found…quite awkward, even after all the weird things I'd been through in the last ten hours.

"Umm…thanks." I said, lightly patting the side of my face. Then, Ivanava Zarolslav walked away from me and all I could wonder was if the Division guys had any idea for what they were in for.

"Wow, don't tell me you've gone south on us, Tash." Jason said.

"Why was that bitch calling you Alice? Who's Alice? Is she a nut job or something?" Charles said.

_You have no idea_, I thought. With that action, I approached the two men I had to see in a more…classy manner.

"Charles, Jason. Let me say, I apologize for screaming at you…" I said. I paused for a cheesy dramatic effect, then I finished with, "…a little earlier than I _should_ have."

"What happened to you when you were gone? You need to debrief with-" Charles interrupted.

I interrupted in turn, "I already have. I spoke to the guys at the gates. We were talking to the spooks from the Battalion 2-camp. They told me to take her back here."

"Okay. So what's with you today? I guess it's a little early in the month go PMS on us." Charles said, "But all kidding aside, what's going on?"

_Finally_, I thought. "Let's talk in private shall we?"

Since we were in the rear echelon, light discipline wasn't as important but we did find a small, abandoned hut on the edge of the area to talk. I had the letter from Dina Gaudes and I knew the truth. I had all the cards to play with. I'd spent hours _dreaming_ of how this confrontation would go down. I dreamed I was like my father in the cockpit of his plane. He slowly tracked down the enemy, thinking several seconds ahead and concentrating on that one perfect air to air kill. Now it was finally in my grasp, the cross hairs were on…

"What's the deal, you're not coming out of the closet on us now? I mean, Rico's going to be heartbroken…if he actually cared in the first place." Jason said.

_Funny you should mention that_, I thought smiling in my head.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, they're placing us in Golf Company after debriefing and everything. The whole army's behind schedule with Severja's campaign and we're probably going be Oscar Mike as soon as we get in." Charles added.

_I really don't give a shit._ I finally started, "They told me a little about that. Hopefully, we won't be on the same team."

I had turned the master arm off, the radar was tracking the enemy…

"What? What are you talking about, Tasha? We're a team. You and me and Jason and Zanne…this is some traitorous talk you got going on, girl." Charles said, stammering out.

"Well, speaking of traitorous talk…does the name Dina Gaudes mean anything to you guys?"

Charles and Jason's faces dropped faster than Grunder Industries' stock after the 2010 war. I could see it, even in the weakly lit area.

Their facial expressions were _priceless_.

Charles tried to play it off, "What? Who? No, way. I've never heard of her."

The laugh at the end of his weak excuse was even more insulting than the excuse itself! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. All I wanted to do was shout out, _are you a bleeping idiot!_ _Do you think I'm a moron or something! _How could he have the gonads to say such a thing!? I had all the proof I needed!

"Wow, you guys are so transparent. I say Dina Gaudes, you look like you've seen a ghost…and yet still deny." I said.

"Look, I don't know what the gas did to you…" Jason said. I cut him off. I brought the target to the boresight and prepared to fire.

"DINA GAUDES! You know who she is! Don't lie to me, you sick freaks!" I said, losing my emotions for a moment. I almost started crying when I said it. Actually, I did cry a little bit. I guess it was my natural reaction to such a terrible, inexcusable thing.

Jason looked at me as if he'd come home and found his girlfriend with another man. "What?! Oh, you've gotta be kidding me! That stupid broad's still trying to slap a suit on us?"

"Wait, shut up, Jason!" Charles interrupted, "How the hell did you find out about that?!"

_Fox 2. _

"It's nice to have reporters as friends. Lillian had _long _known. She found about Rico's mom and my mom mentioned something about Rico to her since she's invited to Helena and Lillian's wedding…whenever it is. Then one thing leads to another, word gets back to me about your little drug fueled, sex foray three and half years ago with a certain Dina Gaudes who you _embarrassed_ in court with your lies about her being a whore! The plea bargain got you into the Marine Corps."

"Look, god, even if Lillian knew…there's nothing anyone can do. We made a mistake, and besides…how do you know that Lillian wasn't making up the whole thing."

"Dina sent me a letter." I said angrily. I produced the letter and the frozen faces were almost enough to make giggle in insanity at how perfect the entire scene was. Now, I had free reign to screw with their consciences.

_Splash one. How do you like that, bitch?_

I read the entire thing out loud to them. By the middle, Charles was furious and he tried to take the letter from me. But I was faster than him. Our childish game of keep away ended when he simply gave up…and we were outside the hut.

Charles was defeated in his voice, "Oh, Jesus. My mom told me this wouldn't die and I _didn't_ listen to her! I hated that bitch! Rico was the main guy! He goaded us into it! He was going to tell everyone at school about when I…"

Now I got the chance to enjoy the moment as their excuses and apologies began to pile up. It was _glorious_.

"Charles, that's enough. We made a terrible mistake. We were drunk as shit." Jason said.

"She was too!" Charles said grabbing him by the collar.

Jason replied, "No, she wasn't! We were drunk and high, Rico got a little crazy and one thing led to another…then we're getting arrested. Rico screwed her over though. His mom hired these crooked lawyers…"

"Jason, shut up. Shut your face!" Charles shouted.

"Enough! Look, these assclowns paid off people. I know. My mom knew. All our moms knew. They had friends on the jury. My parents threatened to take me out the will if I told anybody about it. We only pleaded to a lesser charge, and we ended up here after jail."

I was in total disbelief. There was a thought in the back of my head that whole thing was crooked and evil even more so than the act itself. Dina's words said it, but I had to make sure if it wasn't hyperbole. That turned out to be quite false. I said nothing. I crossed my arms and looked at the both of them with this steely cold stare. By now I'd lost my enjoyment of the moment and now I only wanted to finish this. They'd been caught out and they knew it…but the whole thing was just a sordid mess. And they were shocked that I didn't want to be on their team?

It was one thing to be named innocent for Dina's torture, but the fact that the entire system was corrupt was just too much to bear.

"Look, you don't understand how things in our community were. We lived in North Rivera …it's like November City's version of Manhattan Shore. It's got gated communities, movie stars, prep schools, sports cars, private access. We had it all. But even _we_ were lucky we even got the sentence we did, even for rich kids. If our parents didn't hire that legal team, we would have been in jail for _years_. The only reason it got hidden from the media was that the Democratic and Republican Conventions were going on in, back when President Shelley was running for office." Charles said.

"Dina's mother killed herself after the trial. So when we joined up, we got deployed as far away from November City as possible. We haven't gone back since." Jason said.

I couldn't breathe. It was the one piece of information from Dina that I did not know. I became sick again. I breathed like an old accordion. My eyes bulged, I could feel them. I started to cry.

"I had…I had no idea." I said. But it was not the words of sympathy. It was pure saddened rage. That was the final straw. I didn't give a damn what happened to either of them now. My interest had faded away. Now I was just sickened by it all. It was one thing to destroy one life, but to destroy two? I could never associate myself with them again. Walter Snow was nobler than these guys…and that was saying a lot.

"Forget it. I blamed Dina and Rico. Dina should have never worn a miniskirt and fishnets to go visit her father and party. She was basically asking for it." Charles said.

"You…piece…of…." I said, "If you hated Rico for helping you get off when you got busted, _why_ were you still friends with him?"

"He takes care of his buddies." Jason said. But his tone suggested he was ashamed of the statement. He should have been. It was _dumb_. The whole thing was just some privileged game. Now it was time for the counterstroke. I knew all this information and if it were to get out, he'd be a pariah among the Marine Corps. He couldn't be tried for anything, there was no legal recourse. But Charles' reputation was everything.

It was then I knew I could ransom it to get what I wanted. It was cold blooded, it was petty, immature, selfish…but I had to do it. I had to be a cold hearted bitch in order to move to the next phase of my transformation into Alice Lovecraft.

"Unbelievable. You guys disgust me. Wherever we go, I don't want to be on your team anymore. And don't think your wife's not going to know about this. I know you haven't told her." I said, pointing at him. Charles could barely speak. When he did, it was like trying to calm down Sherry after a fight.

"Tasha…if you…"

I became belligerent again, "Or what?! What then, huh!? What are you going to do? I'd like to know. I'm kicking you and Rico to the curb and I'm getting myself some _real_ friends and a _real_ boyfriend, not a bunch of drunken rapists with rich parents. GOD, my mom always told me rich kids were the worst. You actually thought no one was going to find out, huh?"

"Look, a lot of people got hurt because we all made one stupid mistake. Okay, I admit it! We screwed up. Why can't you let this go? Why do you have to open old wounds?" Charles asked.

"Then don't make them in the first place, asshole." I said.

At this point, I knew had them. Charles' voice was pleading. If only I could make him get on his knees and beg. "Look, Tasha…this could ruin us."

I _should_ have made him beg on his knees, but I wasn't _that _cruel. "I won't say anything to your wife about this on two conditions. One, let me and Xanthia off your team. Two, neither of you will never make another joke about someone else's sexuality again. Do we have a deal?"

The silence was deafening. Charles and Jason kept looking at each other and their hands. They shook their heads in contemplation. It was satisfying to see their desperation.

"FINE! Deal." Charles said. "Just dig the knife even deeper…you vindictive little…"

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? I'm just doing it because I _hate_ you." I said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Charles snorted. "Tasha Black, you really _are_ an ice bitch."

"I'll take it as a compliment." I said, "Oh! I have something for you. A little parting gift. The guys at Battalion wanted me to drop off some mail for you…looks like that came express mail like Dina's letter."

_More like a parting shot_, I thought as I pulled out an envelope with Charles' name on it and handed it to him. It was indeed an express mail envelope. But I was unsure of the contents. Ellerbe looked at the envelope in shock then opened it and I couldn't smile any wider at his incredulous reaction to the contents. He tried to sit down to contain the shock, but fell on the dead ground.

"What the…it's from Sherry! It's from her lawyer! She's hitting me with divorce papers! She wants the kids…what the hell?" he shouted.

I looked at the letter's date. It was actually shipped five days prior. "Irony's a cold hearted bitch, isn't it?" I said.

_Wow, _I thought_, there's really justice in the world._

"Well, it seems that Sherry was rather…unimpressed by your stories, Charles." I said, my voice icy and heartless, "You told me love was like picking a rose garden. Those thorns hurt…don't they?"

I walked away without an expression on my face. I had no sympathy for Charles. He and his friends had lived above life for all this time, ignoring the people that truly cared about them. That would explain why my initial assessment of their relationship was a bit…off. This would mean that Charles had…other stories he didn't tell anyone; those stories obviously other women, a fact anyone could bet their mortgage on. I didn't care to listen to Charles' angry speech behind me; his empty death threats against Sherry and her lawyer. But Charles remained unrepentant of his actions, hiding behind upper middle class status and a crooked justice system. Sherry was better off. At that point, I knew one was thing was obvious about Charles Ellerbe, Jason Moore and Rico Lazarus: trouble followed them and many people's lives ended up in ruins.

Dina Gaudes was a case study in that. Shady parents paying off shady lawyers who paid off shady jury members, picked the right time for a trial, and Dina was the villain. The end result was three people walking as free men with no guilt or remorse over their deeds. Jason…I could cut him some slack, but then again, he only admitted it when I cornered him. Had I not learned what I did…would any of them admit anything? There was nothing more transparent about them. It was the old apology-because-they-were-caught-red-handed. But Mrs. Gaudes didn't get a single apology. Why would she? There was no legal recourse; _they_ couldn't be tried twice for rape. Her father became her enemy because he was bed buddies with Rico's mother. Her mother took her own life in an obvious shame after being screwed by an institutional system of wealth and privilege.

I was cold. Apathy was not something I was good at; until now.

As I walked around the area though, there was the one person I wanted to see. Some guy from the 1st Marines was talking to her. She didn't look like she'd been through any ordeal. Xanthia King smiled and laughed…even more so when she saw me. She dropped the conversation and walked ten steps to meet me in the middle of my advance.

She and I said nothing. She just brought me into her embrace and neither of us could have been happier. I started crying. But I felt odd right after.

It shouldn't have been such a strange feeling. But as I found Zanne's embrace to be joyous, it was indeed an unusual emotion hiding in me. The first time I met her, it was because she had such a height advantage on me. But as we stood together in the skeleton of a once mighty Yuktobania, I realized it was probably everything I'd seen and heard. It was far more than a mere Lance Corporal like me should have discovered. Out beyond our lines, there were true struggles in places we'd never heard of and would probably never see. But as the rail thin, golden skinned giantess rocked me back and forth in her arms, I didn't really care about the war for a few minutes.

It was the next step in the quest for freedom from my own problems. All I had to do next was let go of my brother's dream, easier said than done. But, I was content with this time with my best friend at the moment. There were no thoughts of Rico or anything else.

I was completely indifferent to the world.

"I'm so glad to see you." I said. Xanthia pushed me off with a light shove.

"Oh, shut up girl!" Zanne said while laughing, "Don't be going all soft on me."

"You never change." I said.

"Girl, did you hear about the others?!" Xanthia shouted to me.

I stopped. "Oh, shit! I forgot! And Lillian?! What happened to them? And what happened to you?"

"I was knocked out by that gas. But I could the enemy talking. They were looking for you alright. And what happened with you before? You just went nuts and shit when Lillian said something to you about Rico."

"Zanne…" I started. So I told her everything. Even she, the strongest woman in the company found herself taken back in horror.

"That's beyond messed up. Good for you. I don't even wanna talk to them anymore. Only crazy white people would do some shit like that." Xanthia said. Zanne shuddered a bit.

"You ain't kidding! What happened to them?" I asked.

"Man, we all got caught. Woke up in this weird ass lab and they were stripping us to put into these big blue water tanks. They picked six of us. Then, they took Finch, Lillian and Carly and put them in these horizontal tanks, like you'd see in a hospital or something. They shipped them to this truck. Then the rest of us got put into the other tanks. That water was freezing and they put these masks on us. I thought I was done…they were going to kill us. They were talking about you. It was this…foreign guy. A Versuan I think. He was mad. He talked to this Yuke guy, I think he was a Dogman…a lieutenant."

"Really?"

"They were pissed off they couldn't find you! Then they talked about your brother, and this Alphonso guy and this Bartlett guy or whoever the hell he was."

"Go on." I said. My heart raced when she mentioned my brother's name.

"Then, out of nowhere, these dudes bust in and start shooting up the place! They shot all the guards and got us out." Xanthia said. She was quite excited.

"Who was it?" I asked.

"They were wearing these suits…they looked just like the same ones that Recon wears!" she said. Her eyes were open and her mouth was as well. But I heard the faint laugh coming out of her throat.

"Really?" I said, confused.

"Yeah. So after I got my stuff back on, I asked one of these guys while they evacuated us. They weren't Power Recon, but they had on the same suits. They had this red trim on them and right then, I knew…something's going on. I asked who they were. You know who they were?"

"Surprise me, Zanne." I said, impatient.

She leaned in close to me and said, "They were Rangers."

"Rangers?" I said. Now I was mucked up. _What the heck were the Rangers?_

"Yeah…_Army Rangers_. You know, the guys attached to 10th Mountain? The elite Army guys, _Rangers lead the way _and all that crap. They were wearing the same stuff Power Recon was!"

Of all the odd and shocking things I'd heard in the past few days, this was actually more darkly humorous. I guessed my brother wasn't so elite anymore…

But after that, I knew had no idea what happened to Finch or Carile. And God knew how they'd treat Lillian. In the darkness, I had a cold feeling in me. It wasn't the heartless feeling of before…it was the ice of fear in my soul. I started to shake and wondered if someone, anyone could pull a miracle. I didn't want to face that tragic scene, having to explain to Ms. Southerland why her fiancé and her daughter were among the dead. It made me wonder if the people back home who protested the war even knew what we had to endure…and it wasn't all bullets coming our way.

Next Chapter: So Long, Travel Well


	16. So Long, Travel Well

Chapter 16: So Long, Travel Well

_December 18, 2010- "…Sometimes I wonder who truly controls the world. Or rather, __**what**__ controls the world? Do people control everything or does war dominate the planet? Maybe it's fate. Or could it be money and business? I used to believe we controlled our own destiny and that was all. But perhaps the world is controlled by everything at once, and nothing is ever resolved…"_

It was like everything was an endless stream to her. My mother always said life could be a strange mix of starts and stops. Maybe nothing was ever finished...

***

It was well documented from our childhood that Tasha and I had some great senses. However, there was something odd about it all. I had listened to the philosophies of two diametrically opposite people. I didn't know if they were just talking loud or if my ears went on steroids. The sound of their voices was sharp to my ears, and yet it sounded far away from the room. I still sat in the chair. I didn't fidget around as much, even though the chair was rather uncomfortable. Sorenson's silver-like voice was all too obvious, but there were two other men with her. One was Kaida and the other was an obvious Yuke of some rank or major status. There were hardly any Loyalist personnel at Bethlehem Park. All of them were to the north in Dresdene and Duga.

_They_ were having an argument. I didn't really care much for what they said at first. I was considering the overall war we'd been fighting.

In just a few days, we'd advanced past Severja and were on the edge of finishing the Gublina Campaign. We had moved about 250 klicks since the war had begun some thirteen days prior. From what I was told, the ground war had ground down in Central Yuktobania with Loyalist and Osean forces facing heavy resistance in the critical Prasu area, the plains that led into the massive Jilachi Desert, the red carpet of the Hazri's homeland. I wasn't sure what Power Recon's job would be, but my guess, given the nature of this Seelow Rot situation, would to be to interdict the enemy's efforts to poison the populace and our allies.

My personal hope would be to find Sueltana Devia and her husband alive and well; but as each day drifted on, my optimism eroded a little more. What I learned from my parents (mostly my mother) was not good news at all. My theories on the widening protests were all too real. I wish I could have told her that Sorenson also shared the sentiment that something was wrong with the war. The problem was this: everything that was happening was real. This wasn't some exercise in simulated war. Bullets were flying past our heads and people died on both sides.

This was a war that had to be fought, even if some makeshift nuclear bomb interrupted things. I still wondered why the Soma did that and failed to do it again.

At this point, the enemy's actions signaled the first pangs of desperation. I should have been worried. I remembered what Adrian said about the enemy's command falling apart. That was the problem. The Soma was, at its fundamental core, a fractured group. As far as I could tell, there were three different groups with three different agendas: the Yuke Communist Faction (who wanted to eliminate the entire idea of capitalism and go back to the old days), the Hazri and Jaair people (who wanted their ancient ancestral lands back), and now a newer element was thrown into the mix: the Versuans.

That was the disturbing part. What did they want out of this war? What agenda did they have? I thought back to Saint Marie Du Maurine, Dr. Glass, Severja, Percival…

So that's what it was. Revenge. And when I heard the trail end of the conversation in the hall, I realized it wasn't just the Soma. _Everyone_ was out for payback. The Yuke doctor or officer or whoever…spoke of me directly.

"_That kid is an abomination. He's too much of a risk to have fall into enemy hands."_

"_Who are you to decide the value of a man's life? Our job is the protection of our forces."_

"_So you would allow this virus to ravage us further? You will regret this. We will get that kid one way or another."_

I heard another series of click-clack sounds, but these were more forceful: the hardened footsteps steps of an angry woman. But was that Yuke serious? _Did he think I was expendable?_

_Was this guy serious?_

"Why the hell does everyone want me?" I finally said out loud.

By now, Kaida and Mrs. Sorenson had walked back into the room. Kaida laughed a bit when I said my small piece. "No telling. You would make a great mercenary soldier if you ever ditched this hero stuff."

One thing I noticed was how they came in. Kaida had this snide look on his face and Sorenson didn't even look at him when he spoke. This had to be something new. I had not detected any tension between the two before. And yet, here they were in practically the same building where I first met them…and they were hostile towards each other. It was the perfect time to get answers to my other nagging questions.

For whatever reason, I dropped my lack of concern about one rather...disliked individual, "Whatever happened to Rico?"

"You mean Mr. Lazarus? Well, it wasn't pretty. He'd been exposed to a large dose of the gas. He developed some…anger issues. The lab coats say the virus increased his rage and testosterone production." said Sorenson. Sorenson had sat back down in the chair in front of me.

Kaida folded his arms and looked away from the others. "That guy's got some issues. He was constantly mumbling about some person named Ducinea or something."

Kaida could have just hit me in the back of the head with that statement. "What?!"

"You know her?" he asked.

"Yeah. Dulcinea…"

But before I could even get the words out, Sorenson again cut in, "Ah, so we come full circle. It seems the enemy wanted your girl as well."

All this time, I was growing less and less concerned about the large amount of information this woman knew about me; much less...interested at all. I wasn't shocked. I mean, I knew Dulcinea's name was on the list of people we found in Baquenta. She was in the rear echelon, however. _What did I have to worry about?_

Kaida shook his head again. Afterwards, he reached in his pocket and pulled out some kind of Queue like device. It was white, and most Queues were black, blue, red or gray. "I'm going to see what's taking Kans and Alderman's squads so long."

"When were they were supposed to be here?" Sorenson asked without turning her head.

"Half hour ago. They're always taking their sweet time." Kaida said, obviously frustrated.

"Fine. And…uh, make sure you do that little favor for me, eh?" Sorenson said. The second after that, she just turned her slightly and gave me a quick wink. She actually turned away from the Versuan as he _finally_ left the room.

_What was that for_, I thought.

The door closed behind us and with Kaida, things got back to normal with just only two of us. Then it was question and answer time again.

"What about those people we found? Dr. Glass and them? And what about Bartlett and Percival?" I asked.

It took a few seconds for Sorenson to reclaim her composure. "When your unit rescued Dr. Glass and her husband, we took them back to this area. They claimed to know a significant amount about the virus. Apparently, they'd survived the bombing of the Pathological Center in Cinigrad. But when we asked them more, they were dodgy. They were hiding something. There was this massive riot at the water truck about four days ago, when your unit went into Severja. When we came back, they were gone. How the hell did they disappear off our base!? I've been wondering that for days! But Kaida won't give me a straight answer."

I couldn't believe it. Why would they just up and leave in the middle of all this? "What do you mean?"

I could tell from her anxious sighs that she was going to talk about something other than what I intended, "Your mother did have a point. There's no reason to rationalize the mercenaries. It wasn't my call to have Praetorian be the primary PMC service here. Blame that on Mr. Cain, my boss. He and the president had many ties to PD. Many of their CEOs and COOs were former soldier mates that served with them in Versua."

_Damien Cain, the CEO of Hephaestus_. "Scratch my back then I'll scratch your back, no?"

The shaded gold haired woman folded her hands in front of her face. "Pretty much. My biggest fear…of all the fears in my darkest hours, I feel this whole war is one big back scratch. But at least, I know I'm not alone."

"I thought you were in it for the money."

Sorenson uncrossed her legs then re-crossed them as she spoke, "I was brought on because I was a skilled and experienced ex-soldier. They, the Board of Directors, thought the company was way too…corporate: a cold, emotionless, sterile business. They were worried about public image."

"What about Glass? And what happened to Bartlett?"

Sorenson closed her eyes for a second, "He vanished as well. After we found him, we put him with the PD units, but the van he was on was unaccounted for. We found the torched humvee, but no bodies."

There was a heavy, dragged feeling in me. It was something one would have if all the blood in the upper half of their body sank to their feet at once. Bartlett was gone. Strangely, I never mentioned him to my parents at all. He'd been gone for all these years and I found him on sheer chance. Now he was missing again. I wasn't sure if I actually gave myself away through body language, but I _tried_ not to express myself.

I continued, "And this…Praeten?"

Sorenson went back through the folders with a look that was neither angry nor concerned. I couldn't really make it out as she licked her lips and blinked at an unnatural pace.

Finally, she said, "Praeten was an interesting case. We tried to pump him for information, but it seems the Sotoans had other interests."

"What?"

"We did find out some of what we needed to know from him. We know the virus wasn't created by them, but the chemical delivery method was supplied by the creep. Then, word got out about the capture. The Minister of Foreign Affairs, their once legendary war hero Serena Batiste, requested that Percival be sent to Sotoa to face three dozen charges. Apparently, _nineteen_ counts of crimes against humanity were not enough."

Sorenson pulled out a Sotoan newspaper with the picture of a man in handcuffs being taken off a plane. But the picture taken was too far away to completely describe the man in question.

"The State Department feared a public relations disaster because as you know, Oured is an extremely diverse city. East Oured has a lot of Sotoans. They had the highest death toll of the allied forces. As far as they were concerned, it would have a national embarrassment if they didn't get their closure." Sorenson continued, "The Generals and Sotoan Royal Cabinet worked out a complicated deal for him to plead to lesser charges and not face the death penalty in exchange for information about Seelow Rot. It was all fine and good…until two days ago. Percival was assassinated at the airport by a sniper. Guy did it with a fifty cal at 2000 meters…tore him in half."

_2000 meters. _

That guy was good; no, next to godly in terms of a sniper shot. The M40A13 standard issue rifle for Power Recon Marines and Navy SEALS was effective up to 900 meters. A really good sniper could kill a target at 1000 to 1100 meters. But that was basically it for the M40A13. That is, unless you had the X175 .50 caliber rifle that could knock out vehicles and people at ranges of over 2200 meters. The longest recorded kill was, ironically, by Demetrius Wash's dad, Irvine, during the Versuan war at 2197 meters. A Sotoan Royal Marine, something of a hero back in that country, killed a White Crow soldier at 2182 meters. All three kills were over a mile away. Not that I was shedding any tears for Percival.

_Incredible_, I thought. _I'm__** so**__ going into the Scout/Snipers when this war's over._

I wasn't sure if I was wearing out my welcome with all the questions, but I had to keep pressing. "Well, can I ask one more question?"

"Sure."

It was time for the ultimate question, "What the hell is G1? We kept getting radio frequencies from a G1. Hadn't heard it since the middle of Severja, but…"

Sorenson's expression was one of complete shock. I knew right then what the answer would be.

"To be honest…I have _no_ idea. I've heard the rumors and nothing's come up on my end. Believe me…I'm trying to find out as well. They're all kinds of reports of suspicious radio frequencies all around. It's a mess."

"Hmm. I see." I could only say. _Well, back to square one_.

Sorenson took a drink of water from the table. All that talking had made me forget my throat was parched. I took another glass and poured a half a cup of ice water.

"Does that answer all your questions?" she asked.

I had a chance to figure out why. It seemed strange she did answer my queries. "Wait…why _are_ you answering all these things? Isn't this classified info?"

The woman laughed, "I do trust your judgment. You have the makings of the perfect soldier. Maybe that's why the enemy wants you."

That wasn't the response I was looking for, and it made me feel even more awkward. "It's all too freaky to me. I just wanted to be the guy everyone called a hero."

I didn't want to be this free agent for everyone. The Soma, the officers, PMCs, Corporate Osea? It was too much for a nineteen year old Marine. Hell, my concern about getting _killed_ myself was enough for me! Much less having to kill people and worry about squadmates, a girlfriend and my crazy parents! And none of the people who wanted me gave me any upside. I couldn't let that happen.

The Hephaestus executive placed her left hand's index finger on the table, the nail pointing onto the surface. She pressed it against the smooth plastic area and pushed down a bit. Something was on her mind. My words of a hero's dream triggered it maybe, but something was obviously on her mind. It was as if she wanted to break her own blood red nail. Her mouth was closed, but her teeth came into view when she opened her mouth to breathe. She pushed her upper lip up to reveal the pearly white teeth at the top, but the _way_ she did that indicated she was pissed off about something.

Like a vampire showing its fangs.

"I heard Kaida's _interesting_...take on your choice of life. _He's_ a man whose priorities are in the wrong place. _He_ seems to think your PMC worthy. I'd stay away from them as far as possible." Sorenson continued.

I heard the faint breath in the sound of a hiss and a snort, like some kind of ferocious wild animal when she said Kaida's name. I knew she wasn't the biggest fan of PMCs, but it was clear that something about the amoral Versuan ruffled her feathers...and it was something _very_ personal.

I heard the sound her nail scratching the tender material along the table. She was doing it _quiet_, though. I heard more sounds, the sound of a gnat flapping its wings. And I thought this was a sterile environment. It was only after the long awkward pause between us that I realized this genetic disorder must have manifested my senses even further.

"Is there a problem between you and that Kaida?" I asked nervously. Sorenson actually turned to make sure he wasn't there. Then with a hand motion, she waved it in a rather dismissive motion.

"I don't trust him...or his friends. I'll just leave it at that." said Sorenson, her voice no more than a whisper. Her lips were pursed and nostrils flared again when she said his name.

In what could be described as a complete 180 degree turn in emotion, Sorenson removed her finger from the table and brushed a few strands of hair from her eyes. Calmly, she gathered he notes and said, "Well, your squad mates are picking you up tomorrow at 0600. It appears they've moved to the east and are currently 70 klicks outside the Jilachi Desert."

Then, as an afterthought she tacked on, "Your tests came back negative. It looks like you don't have any long term effects from the viral exposure, which is more than what I can say about some of the others we've found."

Now she'd _really_ gotten me, "What do you mean?"

"The people in that incident outside Mogani…some of them were…mutated. Their skin was…nevermind. We're still playing catch up with this virus. Hopefully this woman your sister found can answer some questions."

Sensing it was better that I leave it right there, I shook my head then I asked her if it was all she wanted. Gathering her notes, Sorenson said yes and showed me to a private room on the other side of the building. Whatever this place had been was not known from all the protective rubber shielding and the terrible smell of bleach and other cleansers. The room itself was a gray one, probably a former interrogation cell before they jazzed it up with some bedding and curtains. Though _jazzed up_ was a relative term.

One of her aids brought my Charcoal gear to my room. The actual Recon suit was left with the Battalion mobile armory. It was about 2240 when everything finished. I decided it was time to get some shuteye. 0600 always came sooner than you thought. I thought about everything in the first few moments of sleep. I thought back to Mogani and seeing Patterson's head ripped off. The dying child at the gate, twisted in the razors of the concertina wire, and through all that suffering he still tried to kill me. I shouldn't have been surprised at the child trying to take me out. I went through the same thing days ago with the children outside Severja South. But the look of rage in his eyes scared me. I heard the voices of demons from the dying and the damned.

What did Ozymandias mean? Could it have been that book from the 1780s I read in high school? Was it the same story about the evil Sand King banishing people to the desert and their sprits came back to retake the kingdom?

…_a great evil will corrupt the infidels. The darkness will twist the souls of their people and will turn them into monsters. The beasts will obey the commands of the Hazri. Only those who are written into the book of Life shall be spared._

Was _this_ truly what it meant? No, it couldn't be. There were several holes in their revelation as Alphonso said. But certain pieces did fit. What if this Book of Life was my genetic defect itself? No, it couldn't be. It obviously referred to something tangible.

I thought about whoever my sister had saved. If this person had no answers…we were screwed.

I awoke to a piercing sound. It was a series of sharp voices. But when I got up, the sounds were only but a light tone. Something strange was happening to me.

"_Ah, Mr. Kaida. What is our agenda now?"_

"_Don't know. Our counterparts with the Yuke loyalists still favor the more extreme method."_

"_Sir, you don't think this war will end anytime soon?"_

"_Of course not. As much as the left wing elite back in Osea tries to understand the enemy, the Hazri will always be hostile. We can take Cinigrad and the Highlands, and we might be here until winter."_

"_That incident in Severja…you know, the one the civilian children attacking each other? Was it true this person in this cell was there at the time?"_

"_For whatever reason, neither he nor the other Recon soldiers there filed any after action report. The only thing we have is from our guys that were there."_

So it seemed…they _too _knew about it. Come to remember it, there were possibly Praetorian Division guys in the area. I think Adrian mentioned it.

"_Is there any progress with the missing Marines?"_

"_Some were found and a few are still missing. I could care or less about them."_

"_And this virus? Is it true about it? Did Dr. Glass __**really**__ create it?"_

"_It's more powerful than we thought. Now we know that it can actually make people into zombie like creatures. A power like this is more than its weight in gold."_

"_Are you sure this is the right move?"_

"_What boss wants, he gets."_

"_Oh, that chick's here. Send her in."_

I wasn't sure what the hell they were talking about at first. It was clear that Kaida held contempt for not only the Soma, but us regular enlisted soldiers; you know, the ones who were on the front lines and were dying...the same ones who signed up to use their weapons. Kaida's facade of charm did not fool me.

As I sat on the bed trying to process this encyclopedia of information in my head, I thought…_who the hell was __**that chick**__? _I had my head down, my eyes stared at the floor as I heard the voices dampen and the footsteps grow softer. _They_ were leaving. I couldn't see my face, but it had to be one of complete mental malfunction.

I heard someone humming in the hallway. It took me a minute, but I could clearly make out the ambient sound of a tune…almost similar to _Bring out the Best_ by Lenovo Handicap.

_Bring out the best, we all know why we handle life…Put to the test, the ones who die always never see, the darkness shows our true selves and with that we all fall, fall down…fall, fall down into the sludge of our creation…_

The only thing Tasha had in common with _her_ was an obsession with Lenovo Handicap. Duclinea's favorite band. Of course, Dulcinea hated _The Ellen Coates Band_ because she thought they sold out to Hollywood. But it was _her_ band. I snapped my head up and looked right into a pair of blue eyes.

"God, you look like a cancer patient."

_Cancer patient, the nerve of this girl! _

Dulcinea was standing right in front of me, peach flesh and all. I could see her reddened eyes and the light bags there. Her hair was a little ruffled and she was dressed in a blue sleepwear, a blue top with a knot beneath the exposed skin of her upper chest and the tiny, blue dotted pajama pants that extended just beneath her knees. She had on those old, ratty tennis shoes again…but she was here.

"Are you…oh, my god!"

I just jumped up like a leopard and grabbed her, lifting her into the air. I put her back down on the ground as she laughed and giggled the whole time. Then I took a step back and decided to…critique her appearance.

"_I look like a cancer patient_, my ass. At least I dress up a little better, brush my hair before I go out."

"Smartass." She said playfully pushing me. I just hugged her again, and then I went to lock the door behind her.

"Pretty Dee, how are you?" I said.

"Good. They didn't wake me up for nothing after all." She said with a huge smile on her face.

"Oh, I'm not worthy of your beauty sleep time?"

"You most _definitely_ are." She said, kissing me on the lips.

I shook my head, "And here I was trying to sleep. I'm heading back to the war tomorrow."

Dulcinea looked sad, "I wanted to tell you I was leaving too. We're heading home. It's getting too dangerous here with this virus running around. Ever since the Queue fiasco, I haven't been able to talk to you at all."

"I guess command thought I needed the space."

But Dulcinea wasn't playing anymore. She spoke in a very serious voice. "Knock it off. Look, there's something we need to talk about."

She led me back over to the bed and I knew right then something was about to go down. Every emotion in my body was primed for whatever she had to say. I clenched my fists, hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. Her breathing was slowed but her heart rate shot up to the roof. I could feel…her body heat up. _Was she going to tell me what I think she was?_

But when she spoke…she had a smile and frown going at the same time: a most freakish expression.

"Look, I can't put this off any longer. Brandon…I'm pregnant! I couldn't believe it when I found out...I mean..."

The way I felt about Bartlett vanishing happened in reverse when she told me. My head had too much life in it as shock, excitement and worry all filled the inner portions of my mind. There was a part of my soul that suspected it. After all, Dulcinea and I were little…clumsy in our dalliance. But it was something that was scary and exiting at the same time. It was something that so few guys in the world would have looked forward too.

I imagined how some of the other guys in the Company would react to such news. Cameron would have been scared as hell. Given that Bree was his seventh girlfriend in three years, Cameron Craft would have run for the Hollywood Hills if she had a baby. Eric the Red would have rather kicked his girlfriend down a flight of stairs than own up to fatherhood. It was sad, but it was the truth. Most of the guys in Power Recon were anxious trigger happy eighteen, nineteen, and twenty one to twenty two year olds with no inhibitions and a naïve view of the world. The only thing that separated me from the horde was the fact I had a broader view of the world.

The moment made my head feel like it was in a blender. Everything spun around and the blood swished. I was dizzy. But it was exciting. I couldn't hold back my emotion.

For Dulcinea, it was a strange reaction when she said the words she did. Her face twisted ever quite slightly and she bit her lip in a light fashion, telling me she was afraid of my reaction. But she was wrong to worry about me.

I just smiled and said, "Wow…I can't believe it either! That's wonderful."

I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her close to me. In the relative darkness of the room, I felt warm lips against the side of my cheek and there, just near the saliva's place on it, I also felt a lukewarm liquid there as well. I couldn't see it at first, but I took my thumb and wiped her left eye. Dulcinea closed them and breathed a much appreciated sigh of relief. Then she smiled.

"_God_, and to think I was afraid you'd panic and go nuts." She said.

I held her closer to me and spoke right into her left ear, "No, I'd never do that. I always wanted to take care of you."

Finally, she smiled in full. "I told you, I didn't need to be taken care of. I just wanted your love, your loyalty, and respect."

But it _was_ true. I really wanted to be the right man for her and take care of the woman I loved…and the unborn kid she then had. That was what I was taught. That was what a real man did, my father taught me…and like my father, I didn't want any credit for it.

"I've given you all that, haven't I?" I said, "I don't want it to end."

"Your parents are going to be pissed. I know my folks will lay into me for this."

To be honest, I had no idea how my parents would react, but I knew they wouldn't be _angry_ at me. "They'll be disappointed, but they won't be mad. My mom always talked about how she wanted me to turn into a good father someday."

"I think you'll be a wonderful dad." Dulcinea said. She had her head on my left shoulder, her hand along my thigh, her hair draped against my forearm. After a pause for about two minutes, she said with a soft voice, "Can I stay with you?"

I was surprised. "Why are you asking? Of course you can."

She kicked off her shoes. A crawl into the bed followed and Dulcinea curled up beside me. I was laying straight but she was collapsed near me and I just held her there. She had a look on her face, one that was uncertain. Finally she straightened herself out. I looked into her eyes and saw a face of worry. Her eyes drooped down a bit and she kept moving her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm scared." She said.

"Of what?"

Dulcinea had a sick look on her face. "You know…this stuff swimming inside, this gene stuff."

My eyes bulged, "They told you about that?"

I was hoping for a _why_. But typical Dulcinea Dasana...I didn't get it right away and I figured I wouldn't get it at all.

"I mean, I had no idea this was going on inside of me." She said, "But how did you know?"

_Damn, _I thought_, I should have known she was going to ask me_. I couldn't tell her the truth about this. If she found out the enemy was hunting me because of this genetic defect that made me invulnerable against the Seelow Rot…she would have freaked; doubly so since she was pregnant. No way could I tell her the truth.

"They told me." I wasn't shocked; I just hoped that was it.

It wasn't. Because Dulcinea asked me the one question that I feared the most, "Did it happen to you? Do you have this stuff? This…gene thing?"

"I don't know," I said. It was an obvious lie, but I didn't want to worry her anymore.

My girlfriend smiled a bit, "It's kinda strange. When I get scared sometimes, I get that tingling feeling in my legs…you know, like when you're walking near the edge of a cliff or something."

"Don't worry about it." I said.

"I'm worried about our baby though. What's going to happen to him…or her?"

I added, "Your parents must have had it…and you turned out just fine."

"I guess."

Now, I had a chance to hit her with something, "I guess I don't have to worry about any more marriage questions."

Dulcinea laughed louder than she did before. She smiled at me and took a light slap at my shoulder.

"Come on, I enjoy being with you regardless. We don't have to get married right away. It doesn't matter to our child."

"I thought you wanted to."

"It doesn't matter either way…just as long as I'm with you."

There was this long pause between the two of us. I figured she didn't want to talk anymore. Her eyes closed for a moment and I wanted to let her drift off into sleep. I'd have to leave before she woke up. I just hoped she didn't drool on me. Of course, my luck ran out when she spoke again.

"You know what Ruby told me? She wanted me to get an abortion."

The blood in my body raced to my legs again and I could barely react. "What?"

Dulcinea's expression changed immediately, "I know, I know. It was just unexpected for her to come out with that."

Again, I was unsure how to react. I knew that issue was a woman's issue and you just _didn't_ go there as a guy. If you said the letter a after a girl talks about a kid…you were screwed. The last thing I wanted was to make a point out of such a bitterly debated issue.

My opinion was abortion was something that some women considered a convenience. It was just a screwed up thing.

But whatever my position…I wasn't stupid enough to just say my piece. Then again, I _knew_ Ruby Westin. She used to go to my rival high school down in Anchorage. She said one thing then did another all the time. With Ruby, I couldn't find my way through her arguments with a GPS. Why should have I believed anything she said?

"There's nothing I can do about that."

But Dulcinea read me like an open book, "No, don't say that! I never considered it."

"Really?"

I had to hide my joy. But there were the exceptions I discussed, and when Dulcinea continued…I wasn't so sure my position had anything to do with it, "She wasn't being cruel about it. She was actually worried about you _and_ me. She told me you had enough to worry about without a kid."

Dulcinea moved her left hand to my chest. She touched every ripple and contusion of my form.

"Is it true?"

"What?"

"What Ruby said…that they were hunting you?"

_Oh, shit_. I really didn't see _that_ coming. The entire collection of Marines, Army, Yukes, Hephaestus, Praetorian personnel ensured this place had more leaks than a termite infested galleon from the 1800s. To say yes would have been a death knell in the peace of the moment.

So I lied, "No, of course not."

But again, the typical Dulcinea caught me out. But her voice was not one of anger; it was one of deep concern.

"You're lying. I can tell. Look, I understand why you did, but you don't have to lie to me about war. I've lived in this too. They're hunting you…aren't they?"

Dulcinea _hated_ being lied to. In all this, I'd forgotten she'd been in Yuktobania longer than I had. She didn't speak like it, but she _was_ a Yuke by blood.

"Yes. But they've got another thing coming if they want to kill me. You'll kill me before they will."

Finally, Dulcinea and I managed to break the tension. "Smartass."

I had my hand near her neck. With my index finger, I traced it down the exposed skin to the edge of the strap of her shirt. Dulcinea lightly pushed my hand away and quickly changed the subject.

"What are you going to do when you get home?" she interrupted. "I'll have to get a real job though. Maybe I can get in as a temp at my father's job."

"Maybe I'll move down to that house my folks owned in Sand Island. They still got it."

"Really?"

"They got it on the cheap years ago. It's kinda of a small house, but we were born there. We vacationed there all the time."

Dulcinea giggled manically, "Gee, your parents and a Sand Island beach house…no wonder you two were conceived."

"No, silly! It was in Versua. Remember, my mom went into labor at that same house and this weird Belkan doctor was living next door to us. Sueltana…saw a little too much of the event and fainted."

"Are you kidding me?"

"My dad almost fainted too. We were a few days early. I poke at Tasha about her being impatient. My mom was real scared for us. Tasha stopped breathing when she came out the womb. It was so weird. I don't know what it is about my mom and premature births…it's like it's genetic."

"Oh, that's terrible."

"If my all my siblings had lived, I'd have two brothers and four sisters."

"God. So Catherine dies and your mother loses…"

"Two kids. One stillborn and one miscarriage. That's what I'm afraid of…if it's really genetic."

"Wouldn't that be _my_ issue then?"

"That wouldn't make me feel any better."

I was worried about my kid. My dad often wished we had actual grandparents. But neither of my parents had a real family at all. My mother bounced around from foster home to foster home and my dad's parents were killed, one in the Belkan War and the other by a mugger on the street.

My dad was always haunted by his mother's death. That was why he named his first daughter Catherine. But somewhere along the line, he said he let go of his rage…but he never forgot. Now my mother hated her childhood and her horrible family to the core, so she dedicated her life to making sure we had the love and care she never got.

Everything I said was _fact_. I'd had numerous discussions with my parents about this when they gave me and Tasha the dreaded…sex talk at fourteen. My parents believed in full disclosure.

Ironic that they told us about their days as Blaze and Edge, the SOLG, Sand Island, Versua, the Dispater, Catherine, A Blue Dove for the Princess and all that crap when we were seven to nine years old…but waited until we were fourteen to explain something we already knew about: what _really_ happened one night when an eight year old Tasha walked in on my parents and thought my dad was trying to suffocate my mother.

But humorous thoughts aside, Dulcinea surprised me with her response.

"Ruby was going on and on about how this…thing was an only-women's issue. I don't believe it's only just _us_. You know why?"

At that point, the only thing I could say was, "Why?"

She stared at me with the huge sapphire irises and I could see the moisture in them. She didn't talk, blink or breathe for about ten seconds. She pushed her head closer to me; then, she spoke.

"I didn't want to break your heart. That would have hurt most of all. All the people you're trying to protect and there could have been a possibility you could never save your own child. I _couldn't_ do that to you."

"Thank you," I said, "…and I love you."

"I love you too…wait! You actually said it _first_ this time!"

"What's the difference when I never lie to you about how I feel?"

She laughed, "Well, then…I can't argue with that."

Finally, she went off another tangent. "You know, I was thinking…if we're going to get married when the war's over, we might want to hope it's over by the third trimester."

"Why is that?"

"Well, we can't exactly have a, well…_real_ honeymoon when you get into the last three months."

I knew I was blushing, and she knew it too. She cracked up and I couldn't hold in my embarrassment.

"Oh my god…"

Dulcinea took on a half-humored, half-serious tone. "Well, it _is_ important to me. But Paige was like, _pregnant bride, eww_. What a bitch."

Now I could cut it off, "Go to sleep. We're both leaving…let's just take it easy and burn those bridges later."

"Okay," said Dulcinea, "I love you, Brandon."

I wanted her as close to me as possible. She was shorter than me, and she lied just below my neck. Her hands were around the small of my back.

"I love you too."

For a moment, I realized I'd made a slight strategic error. From where I was lying on the bed, I couldn't escape without waking her up. But as we lay there together, I couldn't let this chance go. She and I would be like every other couple in this war: thousands of miles apart. I wasn't sure if I'd truly taken my time with her for granted. Of course, that one night together days ago had changed our lives forever. The idea of her being in this land was a pragmatic convenience. And yet, it was so different from my opinion way, way back on Arizona Island. Many weeks had passed since I'd seen her and I had no desire to see her in the middle of war. But as I felt her warm skin, all I could think about was her. Maybe it was predestined.

This was the girl who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. My mom told me Dulcinea would age well.

My mom actually looked pretty good at fifty years old. At least, it was good for a woman who'd endured years of flying, near death, cancer scares, POW torture, not to mention her and my dad's martial nymphomania that resulted in several ironically unexpected pregnancies, and subsequently me…who at times raised her stress level with my idiotic, daredevil stunts my friends suggested were good ideas.

My dad thought Dulcinea was his kind of girl. Now, if a 49 year old man had said that to a total stranger, he'd be a creepy ass middle aged man. But he said that to me, and I knew exactly what he meant. I'd made the right choice on an early draw in my life. If anyone knew anything about the right woman, it was my father. Otherwise…me, Tasha, and Astrid would have never existed at all.

To my dad, a girl like Dulcinea _was someone who you never wanted to be in a hurry to leave_.

Dulcinea was misunderstood by many of the people in my company. She was a well-rounded, intelligent girl. She wasn't as high maintenance as most people thought. They only saw the expensive car and the house and the Dieter Sache clothes. They didn't know her parents worked their asses off for that stuff. They were dirt poor for years. She wasn't a diva, she wasn't a slut, and she wasn't an airhead blonde. Now, Dulcinea did have _incidents_ to suggest these misconceptions were true. But unlike _certain_ people in Marine Corps, she actually learned from her mistakes. She didn't drink anymore; she stopped dating assholes like Rico…and found me.

I was grateful for her presence. My life was never the same after I met her. I put my arms around her even more, holding her tighter. I would not let her go. One of hands ran through the wispy strands of her hair. I felt her pulse at times, her hot skin, and her slow, rhythmic breathing. But her heart…the pulse was not only Dulcinea's. It was the heart beat of two lives. Two lives I loved. My eyes closed, but before I could even drift to sleep, Dulcinea awoke me with a soft, babbling voice.

"Brandon?" she said, partially conscious.

"Huh?" It was hard to hear her voice at first, but it seemed her next words were carefully said as well as a half-asleep girl could.

"You'll always be my hero."

Strangely, I had no desire to track down Kaida and shove Dulcinea's statement into his face. I went to sleep and dreamed all kinds of weird stuff. But there was one moment where I woke up crying. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't because Dulcinea was leaving…it was because of the others I'd forgotten. Lillian and Carile were still out there, captives of the enemy. And more importantly, Sueltana and Jakob were still missing. I tried to go back and sleep again, but I couldn't right away. Then, I felt the loving brush of a beautiful girl's lips. It all faded away for a few short hours.

**September 7, 2037**

**0602 hrs**

I left Dulcinea at 0550 and told the COQ that she was still there. The place was dead when I left. There was no sign of any of the Praetorian or H-Corp people. I was on the southern side of Bethlehem Park. I was in the makeshift hangar and waited for my comrades to pick me up. I'd redressed in the Charcoal gear. I was also waiting for Eric Martin to show up as well. Eric had finished his rehab and would be back with us.

In the distance, the machine of war continued on as supply trucks kept moving back and forth. I stood there as one tiny cog in the device and I was about to head back into the machine. I heard a rumor that we'd be moving from strictly LARA use to alternating in helicopters. The chopper of choice for the Recon guys was the V-34 Osprey X.

And just when I thought about it, I saw a pair of them flying above me. I saw the Osean Marine markings on them and raised my fists to the sky.

"Get some!" I shouted.

The V-22 Osprey was the original design of the newest Marine helicopter in the first decade of the millennium. The blades faced forward/vertical instead of at a horizontal plane. Originally it was a joint Marine/Air Force project. However, the Air Force scrapped it in favor of the Blackhawk X (the Marine version was actually the Seahawk X). It was known for its stealth usage by quieted blades for flight. Some Marines called it a _flying RV_.

The original Osprey was about 58 feet long and could seat 24 to 32 Marines and had a combat radius of about 420 miles at 300 knots. It had a rearward compacted fifty caliber gun to provide fire support. Marines could parachute of the back of the chopper at 26,000 feet for special operations instead of landing on the ground. The Shelly Administration's military funding improved upon the original model. The Osprey X was seven feet longer, faster by 30 knots and could seat about 28 Marines. And the new model had improved ECM jammers, a GAU 12.7 mm gun beneath the nose, and improved altitude ceiling at 32,000 feet. Not to mention the wings were even quieter than the original model. I hoped that rumor was true. At least Cameron couldn't crash an Osprey; had to be an officer to fly those.

As I thought that, I was assaulted by a pair I hadn't seen in awhile. Someone had jumped on my back, and I knew from the distinct smell and size of the person that it had to either Suzie or Tatiana. She tried to take me down, but I was over 200 pounds of muscle fibers, and this was without the Ultimate Warrior Suit on.

"Hey!" she screamed, using her body to curl around to the front of me. A nineteen year old Marine, holding onto a sixteen year old with her legs and arms curled around me was almost comic gold. I looked to the left and saw Seto running up to me.

I almost dropped Suzie to hard ground when I got her off me. "What are you doing here?"

Just as I said that, Seto ran up to me, jumped up and grabbed me. He started kissing me and in the middle of it all he had the nerve to say…

"Just coming to say goodbye!"

I brushed him off me, "Hey! Hey! What's going on! I told you I don't roll that way!"

Seto put his hands on his hips, "Oh, grow up. If men can't kiss each other from time to time…then what in the world are we doing here?"

I had few words for that, "That's nice. So, what are you doing here?"

"What he said, retard! We're saying goodbye, well I am. You know why?" Suzie said. I nodded no and she grabbed me by the neck and planted her lips right on mine. I tried to break it and I tasted this weird medicine or something on her tongue. I pushed her off and she jumped around like a rabbit hopped up on caffeine.

"I'm going home! I'm going back to Osea!" she screamed.

"That's great? But who are you going stay with?"

"An uncle of mine survived this mess. He's got a place in Bana City! He said we can come live with him! YES!"

There was a part of me that felt the _Les Enfants Oublies_ had thoroughly worn out their welcome. But they were fun to be around and had some amazing insight into life for a bunch of troubled, chaotic, murderous teenagers isolated from any semblance of civilized life. It was then I realized that the drugs really did work if they, civilians with little if no military training at all, could easily just go back to a normal life. Could they? With everything I'd learned in a few days, it was going to be hard for me to go back home. They'd lived this life for _months_. How could they even go back to the normal routines? They were wearing filthy, torn clothing and hadn't bathed in days, not to mention a few cuts and bruises here and there. Suzie had on a pair of brown jean capris and a dirty, white tank top. Seto had on the exact same outfit as Suzie, only his shirt was bloody. How could one simply go back to a regular family in one swoop with hot meals, rules and structure if they'd been living as vagabonds for months? I guessed the drugs really did work. I actually had to give Walter Snow some credit for once.

"Well, I guess you guys should get going." I said.

Finally, Seto became serious. He came up to me and threw his arms around me, but at least he didn't try to kiss me. But then I became sad he was leaving. "Thanks for everything. I hope you find your sister, I really do."

"No problem. You just stay off the meth, Suze." I said.

"I got no reason to take it now. Things are looking up for a change." Suzie said.

Suzie and Seto put their arms around me and we all just held each other for about five minutes. Or rather, they held me and I just took it. Then they started kissing me again and I had to back off. We all started laughing.

Suzie finally said, "Oh, and by the way…if you see Micho, give him this."

She gave me a regular sized envelope that was unsealed. It seemed strange to leave such correspondence all in the open; especially since the contents were rather...thick. However, on the top of the envelope was the imprint of a red lipstick kiss. I dropped my arm and just looked at Suzie. I couldn't see her face that well, but I could tell she was blushing. She held her hands behind her back and shuffled her feet. Seto laughed. Then after the awkwardness passed, she actually stood still for a change and looked at me with a pair of sad eyes.

"See you around. I'll miss you guys." She said. She put her arm around my shoulder in a light last hug and walked off. I couldn't be sure, but I thought she was crying.

"Bye." I said. Seto ran after Suzie, but only after he blew me a kiss. I shook my head. _Was I really that attractive?_

The two teenagers took off. Seto was almost skipping the whole way. Suzie's gait was more reserved; it seemed a walk of shame for her. Maybe that was the real Suzie; that is, the detox from her drug abuses. I had no idea how they were getting home, but they were leaving some way, somehow. I looked inside the heavy envelope and found a wad of Osean money. They were all thousand dollar bills! However, most thousand dollar bills weren't wrinkled and smelled like bad cough syrup.

_**Dear Micho: **_

_**Thanks for finding out about my uncle Jeb. I still have no idea what he was doing in Cinigrad in the first place, but I guess he did something illegal back home. You're certainly more useful than Brandon. He's a good guy and I know his girlfriend's hot, but he talks entirely too much. And if I ever see Walt again, I'm going to kick his ass for trying to steal my money. But I don't really need the haul anymore. So I'm giving you half. Just make sure you send me a photo of the baby.**_

_**Love, **_

_**Suzie**_

_**P.S. If you and Rachel ever break up in the next two years, you'll know where to find me.**_

"Jesus Christ." I said.

***

I took out the fifty dollars that Micho owed me, plus three hundred for interest. Loan shark or not, my friend could afford to be about three and half C-notes. After all, Suzie's little monetary haul was about 20,000 dollars. I always suspected that Suzie had a more devious agenda, and how could I not for someone who popped meth and coke at sixteen, and probably whored herself out, just to deal with the stress of this war. But I never really blamed her for that. I guess Walt was right; all of Yuktobania had become a druggie's fantasy. Everything was twisted in Yuke-land but it was entirely too real to be a hallucination.

We were moving to the new theatre of war: the Jilachi Desert.

It didn't matter that Gublina had not been fully liberated; the road to the war's end went through Jilachi, then Cinigrad and the Somael plains just north of the desert…and finally, the Hazri Highlands. The only thing was this: where would Power Recon finish the war? It was obvious we were in the game, but where would we raise our flag, the Battalion colors? The flag was an important thing to us but it was rarely mentioned. The _colors_ referred to the flag the Battalion carried with it into battle, with the Battalion, Regiment and Marine Corps logos on it. On the sides of the flag were the decorations: the battle streamers. Regiment already decided that Werewolf would raise the flag…but where? Would it be Cinigrad or Merkava, the capital city of the Hazri?

I was expecting a LARA to show up, but I was surprised when a large Osprey X landed right in front of me. The dust and wind blew everywhere and my eyes were choked with sand and dirt. Three people emerged from the back of the helicopter and I knew that the rumors were true.

Cameron screamed over the fading chopper blades, "Every day it's something weird going on with you!"

The three figures approached me, obviously Cameron, then Alphonso and the LT. MacGruber was in the rear, talking to one of the guys on board. I came forward and Cameron greeted me with a bear hug; of course, I was much stronger than the Hollywood kid and it didn't faze me.

"I think it's because Dulcinea's in-country. Hell, I'd kill to have my girlfriend here too. I'd even take a bullet in the ass to get some on the back end." Cameron said.

"She's leaving today." I said.

Alphonso didn't say anything, but Cameron was confused. He kept alternating looks between me, himself and the Sapinian next to him.

"Hold on…she's leaving? Damn, I wanted to ask if she was interested in a little…ménage-"

I shot back, "Cameron, why don't you work on your driving skills and not you and Bree's kinky fantasies?"

Cameron held his hand at his heart, as if he were driving a wooden stake into it.

"Ouch. Oh, well it was worth a shot. So did you knock her up after all?" asked our Hollywood buddy. I just stared at him.

"Cameron, shut up." Alphonso said, "Forget Severja. The whole division's pulling back and moving north into Jilachi."

_Thank you, Captain Obvious._ I scratched my head. "So…what happened since I was gone?"

Alphonso spoke, "Well, after that incident outside the city…we investigated the bodies and most of them were decomposing faster than normal corpses usually did. We did find some survivors in the village. Most of them were in hiding. These two slutty looking teenagers were hiding in a closet but they didn't know anything. They scared out of their minds."

Cameron added, "We tried to find out why the people died at the end of the attack…man it was brutal dealing with all those bodies."

"…and we've still got no answers with the virus." Alphonso concluded. So basically, they told me in a few sentences stuff that I already knew, guessed, didn't care to know, or something that actually nothing at all.

"What are we doing?" I said.

"Well, there are rumors we might go after another one of the Dogmen lieutenants." Alphonso said.

"Are we leaving now?" I asked.

"In twenty mikes. We just came here to get Eric and Rico." Cameron said.

"Rico's not coming. He's still in the shock trauma." I said. That was all the thinking of Rico I planned to do for the day.

Even before I said that, I could see Lieutenant MacGruber leaving the Osprey X. He approached us in a quick walk, and right then I knew something was going down, "Sergeant!"

Alphonso responded, "Sir, what is it?"

The Lieutenant's eyes were shifty; his facial expressions were a bit fluid. Something deeply concerned him, "Got passed down. We're Oscar Mike in five. We got to get back to the company. We got a new mission."

"What's going on, sir? We're still waiting for Eric…oh, there he is!" said Cameron. He looked straight at the emerging Corporal Martin and had his arms outstretched, "What the hell took you so long? We're Oscar Mike!"

To our three, there was Eric Martin struggling to get his gear together. Eric the Red was his persona since, apart from the obvious red hair of his, he claimed he was descended from the ancient Wellow Barbarians who tried and failed to invade Belka in 1012 A.D. While it was no doubt he had Wellish blood in him, he claimed to be half Wellow when we all knew he was, _at best_, sixteenth. But we loved him anyway.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Geez!" Eric the Red said.

Our sergeant shook his head, "What's the mission sir?"

MacGruber took a deep breath, as if he prepared to jump into deep water and stay. "You know that company that got wiped out from 1st Marines, the 154th? They had a small squad taken prisoner. Now they got other Marines from the 157th that went missing as well. They've already executed one POW just outside some town called Dajul."

Everyone froze. We may have been Power Recon Marines, but the loss of a Marine from any company was just as painful as one from our own. It was bad losing Patterson and Adams, but this was just as bad. All Marines were taught from day one in boot camp that the Marine Corps was like a gigantic family. Every Marine was kin to another, as if we were all cousins. We may not have liked everyone, and I had quite a few people in my company I hated, but we were still family. The frontline guys hated the rear echelon guys, infantry grunts were jealous of the scout/snipers and the Recon personnel. But if any Marine were missing, captured or killed, accountant or SAW gunner, it was by jarhead blood edict that we would not leave him or her behind.

For me, it hit close to home. Actually, it was for all of us. I knew some of our company had family in the 154th and the 157th: Adrian and Cameron had siblings in the 1st Battalion of that group. One of Eric's friends was in that group. That was my sister's company. I knew all of them, some failed Power Recon guys like Charles and Jason, they were people I couldn't stand, but if they were among the dead, it was not a good day to have known them. But then again, my sister was alive. I just didn't know who had died. But given what I already knew about what happened, most of them were dead anyway.

I knew my sister was alright, but I had no idea about any of the others. I knew that Carile and Lillian were captured. Right away I asked, "It…wasn't a woman was it?"

"No…it was a man, but it was tapped into a satellite, did it on goddamn television." said the Lieutenant.

I felt nothing but ice in my body. It was a feeling, not of indifference, but of complete, vicious concentration. The only thing I wanted to do was kill the enemy. It was like I was a machine given a single directive…something I gladly followed. We walked back to the chopper in a slow cadence.

"Looks like our company's shotgun for the rescue mission." MacGruber said. "We're heading into the beast this time."

I shouldn't have been surprised at the statement. It seemed like every important mission fell to our company. But it was the price of heroism; that is, being tapped for the gutsiest combat operations. I was more surprised that MacGruber used the words _into the beast_.

I _hoped_ that Sueltana was in my grasp. Surely from her, I'd get a straight answer about this situation. That lab computer Baquenta said she was in Dajul. But my gut told me we'd find only the missing marines…and everyone else would be dead. I was just thankful Tasha was okay. What was she doing anyway? What really happened to her? As I boarded the chopper, I guessed it didn't matter anymore. There were Marines out there that needed to be saved. Command told us we were the ones going in and we weren't leaving anyone behind. And so it went...

_Heroes indeed_, I thought.

Next Chapter: A Friend to a Dragon


	17. A Friend to A Dragon

Note: The next chapter is probably the most important chapter thus far. I am considering having a Blaze/Edge narrated chapter after this one…but if I do, I'm to putting it off until chapter 19 or 20. Enjoy!

Chapter 17: A Friend to a Dragon

**September 7, 2037**

**Zudra, Jilachi Outskirts**

**1400 hrs**

Things in life were given and promised, then taken away with no warning. Some things no one had and they never given anything to and were given with promise. Perhaps that was the true definition of earning one's keep.

Now that I had my independence and broken free with a simple letter to one Rico Lazarus:

**Dear Rico,**

**I just want you to know something. I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore. I'm going to be my own person from now on, not tied down by your callousness that everyone but me seemed to recognize. I don't want to be with amoral freaks and liars. Harsh, yes…but I wasn't lied to by everyone who told me you were bad news. I know what happened almost four years ago and that's really why I can't be your significant other any longer.**

**Charles was the one I coaxed into telling me the truth, along with many others who leaked it all with no coercion or favor. It wasn't even Dulcinea that struck me, but it was Dina Gaudes. I know everything. How long were you going to keep this from me? Imagine that, all the people who kept quiet and I still found out without asking anyone in your family.**

**Just thank me for not telling my brother…because _I_ really didn't want to commit homicide. But if you even think about touching my brother's girl…you might be on the receiving end of an unwanted ass kicking.**

**Goodbye and good riddance…asshole.**

**The Girl Formerly Known as Tasha Black**

With the letter in the trust of the Marine Express Mail service, Xanthia and I, along with White and Charles, who wisely didn't speak to me, were heading to the northern areas of the region…to the southern edge of the Jilachi Desert. For many Marines, this was where the _real _war would begin. We were being folded into the Regimental Combat Team 3 (aka, RCT-3), 1st Marine Division. RCT-2 was originally supposed to spearhead the assault into Dajul, but heavy casualties from fighting in Severja pushed up RCT-3.

Xanthia and I were reassigned to the 104th Maintenance Company and Charles and White were being transferred to a main infantry unit, RCT-3's Bravo Company. They only had one problem. Their company commander was killed in action when an IED went off by his vehicle. That left a Lieutenant Baumgartner in charge of nearly 89 people. Well…91 people.

We were in a jeep driven by that interesting storyteller, that Lieutenant Katz again, and this time he entertained us with an interesting story involving a pair of Hazri natives in a bizarre lost in translation moment.

"I didn't know that was offensive. How was I supposed to know the difference? The two words sounded alike. I wasn't trying to hit on his wife, but this Habib bastard's all in my face going _blah, blah, blah, habadaba…" _

Most of the others weren't interested in his stories though. Xanthia was worried sick about her son, no pun intended. I felt terrible for her as I gained all this freedom from my new life choice and she was still stuck in a moment in time where everything was terrible news. Charles had this _would you shut up, sir_…look on his face. It was almost worth Katz telling the stories just to get the reaction. Or maybe he was ticked because his soon to be ex-wife found out he had a kid by another woman and hid her down in Cape Landers. Katz seemed like the guy who found himself a lot funnier than he actually was; but I didn't care.

I had on the velvet bug-eyed sunglasses I _borrowed_ from Dulcinea almost seven months ago. Though she didn't mind too much, Dulcinea had a huge collection of the things. And I had on my black wig and kept humming _Blood Sunset _by _Repelled Coup._ I _finally_ noticed that my hair was also growing back. But my hair returned at a strange rate. In two weeks, my hair had shot up a few notches. I kind of had the same head that my old high school friend Andrea Smith had, a sort of a Goth like, very short hair style.

The company area was about 100 or so miles from the entrenched enemy. Katz let us off and I only gave Charles a half hearted wave goodbye. Charles shook his head and turned away. Katz had been fortunate enough to drop us off right near the HQ tent…where the obvious Lieutenant Baumgartner was. As we approached, we came to attention, but he quickly put his hand up to stop our official greeting.

"You must be the replacements." He said.

"Yes sir." We said together.

Baumgartner looked at a series of notes. He turned his eyes to me as he looked up. "And you are…Lance Corporal Tasha Black, yes?"

I replied. "Yes sir. But, I usually go by Alice."

Xanthia looked at me like I was crazy; and that was even when I told her my new alias. Baumgartner shrugged his shoulders.

"…okay. Whatever. And you must be King, Corporal Xanthia King."

"Yes sir. And I have no aliases." She replied. I heard a chuckle from her and I could not resist. But the officer really didn't care that much.

He said, "Well, it's about time we got some people with some experience."

"Huh?"

"We just arrived in country four days ago…and we've already lost our commander. It's been a nightmare." Baumgartner said bitterly, "Expect a fight. There's a division wide warning to rear echelon units. It seems those Soma irregulars enjoy ambushing the people in the back."

"We got a taste that that in Kazar, sir." I added.

"Everybody's got a taste of it. Air and Arty bombed the shit out of that place and insurgents are still popping up. That's where we went through. Damned 82nd Airborne said it was secure…and we still lost Captain Meacham. "

"Well, if they want to keep trying, sir…I'd say we keep killing them." I continued.

Baumgartner was pretty tall and lanky. He didn't look like a normal Marine officer. His bad head bounced off the sun and over his eyes were a pair of aviator sunglasses. He lit a cigarette while we spoke. He had a short cut mustache and it almost made me not take him seriously. He looked like a laid off porn star.

"That's what I like to hear." the Lieutenant said. But the _way_ he said it made me worry a bit. It sounded half-hearted and dismissive. "Let's show you around."

Gublina looked nothing like Jilachi before the war, and despite all the death and destruction that had ravaged both regions, Soma or Seelow, they were still dramatically different. This basin sea area was the first true desert in Yuktobania. In Gublina, the death and wreckage of the war had left the land a twisted, alien terrain. Rivers were dried, trees were almost fossilized, and the ground was crushed easily, a collection of dirt and gravel like the pieces of shattered porcelain.

The southern part of Jilachi was often called the Omanus Basin. The desert there contained a fine, talcum powder unusual to us Oseans. We were more used to the thicker sheets of golden sand to the far north, the same place my parents fought 27 years ago.

The camp was surrounded by a large white sand berm and camouflage nets were around the vehicles. I knew our job was going to be nebulous at best. One thing that Baumgartner talked about was the casualty figures. They were way higher than I thought. The Osean Army had taken 2,000 casualties with the death toll at 1,093. This war was on pace to equal the Versuan War's casualty number at about 4500 deaths. To think the civilians were worse off. That last war killed hundreds of thousands of civilians. Everyone had to be on pins and needles. No one was safe. Baumgartner told me there was a story about two female maintenance people from the 3rd ID who were found stripped, bound by their hands and feet and shot in the head…their bodies left into a dumpster.

I felt cold when he told me that. And all the while I kept thinking about Lillian and Carile out there…helpless. Alone. The worst thing was that no one knew what the enemy was liable to do. And if what happened to Zarolslav and all those other people was a possibility, if _they_ were found…there was no guarantee they'd even be the _same people_; if alive at all.

I took it out of my head as I tried to get acquainted with my new company. On its face, the company didn't look much different from Echo. The Lieutenant was ecstatic that Xanthia was a quality RTO since the best one they had died the first day they arrived. The company, according to many, was already snake bit. Xanthia and I were highly nervous about this because it was an immutable law of the Marine universe that _any _jarhead that had believed bad luck was in the air would greet new soldiers with _extreme_ hostility.

Bad luck and karma were prevalent in the Marine Corps and you just didn't screw with people's good luck.

Baumgartner led us over to a pair of men who talked loudly about some female encounter. They were sitting on top of a Humvee tending to a Mark-19 Grenade Launcher. I was still a bit bitter at my brother's good fortune with equipment. Of course, he was in the fancy Power Recon Division with its fancy freaking nanomachine weapons that _never _broke down and vehicles that could run on elephant shit and were still combat effective. Not to mention he had the best NCOs, enlisted men and _officers_ in the entire Marine Corps…meanwhile I got stuck with an officer who looked like he got fired from the adult film industry and that looked lazy and disinterested in his job.

Not to mention this enlightening dialogue…

"So, remember that chick outside Dresia…the one who kept flashing us as we drove past?" said the first man, a corporal.

The private responded, "How can I forget, Corporal? That's the only action you'll get in this place."

"Whatever. You're right about one thing. I did get some of that action! She was actually hanging around Bethlehem Park and I went up to her and I said…"

By the time they noticed us, they stood at attention and both had a set of guilty faces. "Lieutenant, sir."

"What's going on guys?" the officer asked.

The corporal sat down on the edge of the turret while the Private inside the turret worked with the ammo mechanism, "Nothing, sir, just the usual: sitting around, roasting in this heat, trying to fix this piece of crap truck."

"Guys, this is Corporal Xanthia King and Lance Corporal Tasha…Alice? Alice Black. They're taking Jones and Damon's place." Baumgartner said, "King, Black, this is Corporal Andre Vittorio and PFC Paul Barnes."

Vittorio jumped off the turret and shook our hands. Barnes didn't even bother to respond. Barnes looked older than the NCO. Vittorio had a high energy about him. He spoke in clipped sentences. I thought he was on caffeine or something. The Corporal was a brown-red haired guy. He couldn't have been any older than twenty one. Beneath the ruddy skin was no doubt a person who overachieved constantly, even though his Charles Ellerbe-like story telling should have made me think otherwise.

Barnes was much different. He was tall and thick; he, like Vittorio, didn't look his age. He looked about early to mid-twenties. Physically imposing he was, but he had a real Jason like quality to him: all talk, nothing but laziness to show for it. Their faces and accents meant they probably lived on the Northern Osean coast, probably Providence, Boston or Hampton Hills.

"Who's driving?" asked the Corporal.

"Like it matters, I figure anyone can as long as they drive better than Damon." Baumgartner said.

Vittorio continued, "So you guys survived that massacre outside Severja, huh?"

I tried not to think about it and I gave him a stock answer. "Yeah."

"That's wicked, man. POWs for what…five hours? But I'm not jealous." Barnes said.

Xanthia and I looked at each other and I wondered, and she probably did too…_these are the guys on our team? _Baumgartner continued to show us around the unit. We encountered DiNardo and this, Private Doohan, one who often reminded me of Chapman. I remembered I had to thank Chapman someday for his intervention with the Dina Gaudes situation. But the others were a large set of forgettable people; a group of underachieving, disinterested soldiers. Most of the people my age weren't much different from me. That was why I loved Teenaged Wasteland, because it was all true. I realized that perhaps this company wasn't much different than my old one.

I tried not to give thought about my dead comrades in Echo Company, but for the most part…you could have exchanged the personnel in one company to another without any major changes. Well, with the exception of a few people. Though if the virus had affected me…I'd have been dead too. I was more grateful to be alive.

The officers in the 104th were better though, well…maybe not that much better. At least they made more of an effort, at least at first impressions. Lieutenant Mazarin was the S-3 and was quite a sharp man. He had a penchant for card playing and offered us into a game. We politely declined.

"And last…and least, this surly duo, Sergeant Meyer and Private Meyer."

I could tell where they were from without them speaking. They were Brooklyn girls. Their sneers, the way they sat, and the _I Love New York_ sticker they had on their jeep as a dead giveaway. Their skin was naturally shaded, but their eyes were bright blue. The two were obviously of a mixed race, and I guessed that their father was the black guy. The private stood up and held her arms out in a threatening, but confused manner. And when she opened her mouth…I knew I would not be friends with the younger of the two.

"What the hell are they doing here? Bunch of bitches polluting the elite air of this company."

"Hey, place nice sis!" said the female Sergeant. The other woman walked away, shaking her head and muttering some curse.

_What a bitch, not even five minutes here and I'm getting attitude…and what the hell does she mean, polluting the elite air of this company? _

What amazed me was the little sister was actually taller than the big sister. It was mind boggling. Astrid got on my _freaking _nerves at eleven. If she was taller than me…I'd have broken her legs by now. The older Meyer sister had a much more patient sense of herself than any female NCO I'd ever seen. She had a long black ponytail, one just within regulation. The Meyer sisters were darker than Xanthia, and Xanthia was a hundred percent black.

"Please forgive my immature sister for her rudeness. She's got a serious attitude problem." The older sister said.

"No shit." Xanthia and I both said…almost strangely in unison. We looked at each other with a series of awkward faces.

"She's only pissed because she had to be here. That's what you get for bringing a gun to school."

"Jesus Christ." I said, "Believe me Sergeant, we knew quite a many people who were here because they had to be."

Meyer laughed, "But me? I love this job. See, my husband thinks that I enjoy serving my country. Me? I just love guns, but I haven't got to shoot anything yet."

_Oookay_, I thought.

Then the younger sister came back to us, "But I hear…this bitch's got a bad luck charm. That's what happens when your parents are Air Force junkies."

I stopped all movement, as if everything in my body was made of lead. "How did you know that?"

"Oh, please, this is the Marine Corps. People in Division already know." The bitch…er, I meant, the younger Meyer sister, said.

Baumgartner cut us off, "Okay, that's enough."

I _really _wasn't going to be her friend. Xanthia snorted at the younger sister and we walked away. Baumgartner led us back to the comedic duo of Vittorio and Barnes as they still struggled with the Mark-19.

"Do you remember that libo we had two weeks before the war?" said Barnes.

_Libo _referred to the liberty trips made by Marines during overseas training. Libos were always wild events. My first Libo was actually the third weekend of my brother's Recon training. I hadn't even met Rico yet.

My first libo was our insane trip to Zealus Island, a country just south of Aurelia. The Marine Corps had five major overseas installations: the _Forty-oh-Four _on Zealus Island, Veltonholm, the newest installation near Cape Vero, Versua, and Port Santo off the coast of North Point, then there was Wendiwac Bay near Anfang, North Osea and finally, Vasterni off the coast of Erusea.

The most coveted libo spot was Zealus. The legal drinking age was 16…so needless to say I got wasted for the first time in my life.

Then, for whatever reason, I entered a make out contest at the bar. Whoever could kiss the trashy, but somewhat attractive drunk bitch the best got five hundred dollars and for whatever reason…I won. Then, the rest of the night was a total blur. I only remember the sordid results. I ended up on the floor of Xanthia's hotel room naked and covered in blue paint and glitter. And I was _very _upset with Xanthia, since black people generally didn't do crazy shit to you when you were passed out after a night of drinking. She redeemed herself by holding my hair up while I vomited into the toilet.

When I got back, my mom asked me, "How was the trip?"

I said, "Fantastic." Of all the lies I told my mom, that was the biggest.

I kind of wanted to listen to the tales of this Vittorio, "Dude, I was drunk the whole time!"

"_Everybody_ was drunk." Barnes added.

"You remember how wasted Derek was after we left that strip club?! I took a black magic marker and wrote _kick me_ on his ass…"

Xanthia and I dropped our heads into our palms again. We had lucked out and were not assigned to where Charles and Jason were, and yet we ran right into their counterparts. Well, then again…they weren't drunken rich, upper crust rapists…as far as I knew.

The lieutenant interrupted, "Okay guys, we've heard the story before. Now get all that stuff stowed so we can move out."

"Sir, the Mark-19's still on the fritz. If we're going up against the Dogmen waiting on us...we need more PL-9 lube." Vittorio said. PL-9 referred to a special type of lube guns crews used on the Mark-19s and other heavy support guns.

"There's nothing we can do. Most of the lube's going to the arty companies and the straight legs just north of us. Just have to make do."

It had just sunk into my head that this Baumgartner was leading the company and that meant riding in the Command Victor. But our new CO had some question marks. I had no idea how he'd handled combat before and judging from the vast amount of egos, ethnicities, and oddities in the company, I was kinda worried about our safety. I distinctly remembered thinking the same way about Lt. Finch once upon a time…but I had no idea where he was.

"What are _we _doing sir?" Xanthia asked.

"Okay, since you two missed the boat for a bit, we got to get you guys up to speed." said the officer.

The LT put a small board, the map sheet, on the hood of the jeep.

"We are here," said Baumgartner, "120 miles south of Bargani, one of two major cities in the Jilachi Desert. 100 miles north of that is the serious bad guy country…the Hazri Highlands. We are now in Phase 2 of the war against the Soma. Phase 3, the capture of Cinigrad cannot begin until Osean units hold this major highway, U180…also known as the Psel Causeway. We're attached to RCT-3 and they're shadowing the left flank of Power Recon's 1st Regiment. We'll be attached to the 1st Armored Battalion."

I wondered why he was telling us about Psel. Psel was historically insignificant to most Osean soldiers, unless they were in the Osean Airborne Divisions. The Airborne looked back on Psel with caution and reverence. What happened was actually the greatest disaster in the regular Army's history. It was supposed to end the war against the Yukes in 2010. Operation Phobos they called it. The defunct 13th Airborne landed there to seize the highways to Cinigrad. The problem: it was in the middle of winter and they ran into a massive buzzsaw of Yuke armor that counterattack. Intel screwed up and the Airborne guys were left out to dry. The whole was a disaster. And yet, if it had succeeded, the war would have been all but over. History may have been changed.

"To our far left flank is the Yuke's 83rd Armored Division, between them and us…there's at least fifteen miles of uncertain. Command has changed the ROE: anyone with a weapon is hostile."

_Like I haven't heard that one before._

"We're following 1st Armored up to this little town; setting up a roadblock to our rear to keep out anyone following us. Got it?"

We just nodded our heads. It seemed like a simple plan. I wondered about what my brother was doing though. I figured his company would be pretty close to us. But if anyone was going to get a piece of the action in Jilachi it'd be my brother.

"Let's go." The Lieutenant said.

***

**2300 hrs**

**40 miles from Dajul**

Ever since I left Zarolslav's hideout, I was concerned about my image. I'd turned to a bit of a narcissist, ever since I looked at myself in a sexual manner in that mirror about two days ago. Perhaps I'd finally gotten my life back into balance. My life was no longer the endless pendulum of an androgynous nature, I'd reclaimed some of my feminine worth and the pendulum was now almost motionless. It was a good feeling.

We'd driven for hours trying to catch up to the Armor. We'd been left behind before and had to drive almost forty miles to get back to the lines. It was a relatively uneventful drive. The white sands didn't go away once we reached the outskirts of this region. We'd heard that Recon had already made major contact with enemy troops just outside a series of hills west of us. By the time we'd caught up, all I saw were smoke plumes to where the sun set.

Along the way, I found that Vittorio and Barnes, to my error, were not as Jason and Charles-like. They did have some serious conversations along the way. They mostly talked about what went on back home. To my chagrin, things weren't all peachy. Oured was a dumpster fire of protests, political poison, industrial problems as two large industries were in the mix for contracts with Hephaestus. One such recent merger got many people laid off. Then there was the fallout of the war itself. People criticized President Shelley on her policies and her decision to put boots on the ground in Yuktobania altogether. It was personal for my family, as one of our own was in this country…but most people really didn't have a dog in the fight no matter how motivated they were. Some part of me couldn't blame them. The other was insulted. I'd heard firsthand about the atrocities the Hazri had committed and just how insane their followers were. Maybe the doubt was because the enemy wasn't a comprehensive group. There were many subplots to the Soma. There were Yuke Communist Hardliners, crazy Hazri insurgent troops, the Hazri and the Jaair (which were actually the same, but their ancestors were different, one had more freedom than the others…talk about confusing), then there were Hazri who lived in other countries and there were stories of them coming to this place…and _Versans_. Even Versuans were mixed into this!

It was insane.

I tried to focus on other things. Zanne hadn't been her usual self since Severja. I think being captured had something to do with it. Her son's health issues were the main reason though. After we set up the concertina wire and the rest of the road block, we dug in and once again…Xanthia and I messed up the fighting hole procedure.

Xanthia and I once again turned the simple act of digging fighting holes into comedy hour. We dug right next to each other at each other's backs. Slowly, we found ourselves digging a little too close. AGAIN. Humans were generally bad at learning from their mistakes, but we laughed it off and shared the hole…_again_. "From now on we're sharing the damn hole." She said. We sat there and looked at the distance.

I heard blasts in the distance. It was a starry night and above us were worlds I could not fathom.

"How's your son doing?" I asked Zanne.

Her voice was grim, cold. "No word. He could have died right now and I don't have a clue."

I put my arm around her and she dropped her head into my shoulder. I could see her breathe in the cold air and it was a series of long, slow breaths. "Don't worry about it. He's going to be okay."

Xanthia perked up a bit, and I smiled. I went back to looking at the stars again. My brother would have his own theory for it, and he'd dream about going to one of those worlds. How could we travel to the stars if our generation couldn't stay out of jail, stop doing drugs, stop cursing, or stop watching bad TV? We couldn't stop sleeping around, we could barely marry for true love, and we couldn't fix or cook for crap…or much less dig a freaking hole in the ground correctly. If we couldn't dig holes right…how in God's name were we getting to Alpha Centauri?!

Truth was, the politicians were right about us: we were a flawed generation. The generation of the Versuan War. We were, as Xanthia's mother would say, _tore up from the floor up_. We were too busy fighting a war we didn't start. But mostly, we didn't care. We were too busy blasting _Lenovo Handicap _and _Our Valentine Heartbreak_.

At an aside…it was ironic that _Our Valentine Heartbreak,_ my brother's favorite band by the way, was famous for its music, but most _Lenovo Handicap_ fans thought they were too pretentious, moody and angst-ridden …yet anyone who was a fan of _Lenovo Handicap_ and hated _Our Valentine Heartbreak _was a hypocrite. The _Lenovo_ songs were essentially about the same shit _Our Valentine Heartbreak _sung about: teenage angst, love, heartbreak, gothic fascination, missed opportunities, and the loss of innocence.

We were sipping frozen lattes and playing around on our Queues. We had sex at fifteen with people we didn't even love and bragged about it (well, my brother did). This was the generation of me and Xanthia, Rico, Charles, Brandon, Walt, Micho, Carile, Cameron, Marco, Vittorio…and all the people who died in our company back in Mogani. We were the youngest in the war and we were all dreamers of a world we believed was ours.

I'd let go of my brother's dream and embraced my own: a world of endless opportunities.

"Hello ladies." A voice said. We turned and looked up at Barnes leaning down near our fighting hole.

"Barnes." Xanthia said in a dismissive, arrogant tone.

"Just call me Paul. It doesn't matter so much at this point." He said.

"So _Paul_, where did you come from?" Xanthia asked.

I wasn't sure why Zanne was being so hostile to Barnes. Maybe she saw something in him that reminded her of Jason too. Zanne was equally glad to get away from the two of them once she heard the truth about Dina Gaudes. I imagined that Zanne, the daughter of a proud black woman, would have entertained thoughts of murder. Black women just didn't play that game. If Dina was a black woman, she'd have probably killed Rico and the others…outside the court room. But back to Paul…

"Me? I used to live in Providence. Andre did as well."

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah, I heard Andre's family had some mob connections." Paul said.

Then, out of nowhere, the smaller, more vocal Vittorio pushed Paul and nearly knocked him down. "My folks did not join the mob. Jesus Christ, dude. They were just _accused_ of…well…see…my dad just embezzled some money from the union but…"

And once again…

"What is with the Marines? Everywhere I go, everyone's got all this baggage…everyone's all shady and shit. It's unbelievable." Xanthia said.

_So says the ex-shoplifter_, I thought.

"Your brother's got it good. He doesn't have to deal with people like us." Vittorio said.

This wasn't a surprise. Vittorio had tried out for Recon too. However, I had told Andre about my brother hours before.

"Well, he's got Rico to deal with. But at least he doesn't have to deal with Charles and Jason anymore. That Jason jackass nailed my girlfriend back at St. Hewlett. I hate that guy. He's such a tool, him _and_ that friend of his."

_If you only knew…_I thought.

As I said that, one of the guys in the company and another gentleman walked up to us with a small package in his hand. It was DiNardo from watch duty escorting a plain clothes civilian. He had on a desert camo vest or something and it looked like he had something on you'd wear on Causal Fridays at my mother's job.

"Which one of you is Black?" said the civilian man.

I rasied my hand. He handed me a package of some kind. It was wrapped in a clear substance, almost like saran wrap.

"Here you go. Some executive up at BP got this from a Yuke soldier and ordered it shipped to you. Said it was urgent or something. That executive was a woman from H-Corp…she gave it to me, told me to get it to you." The man said. "Guards gave me some hassle, so I said it was from Division and he let me through."

_Someone at H-Corp? Who?_

"Thanks." I said. "But who are _you_ with?"

"Oh, my name's Hamilton King, I work for Praetorian Division. Traveling secretary." He said.

Okay…why would a traveling secretary come all the way out here? But I knew enough about the Praetorian Division. They were some huge merc outfit that did the guard duty for the H-Corp people in Yuktobania. That was all I knew. The others were concerned with the fact of whether it was a booby trap or not. But if it was a booby trap, why send it directly for me? I wasn't worried about being captured anymore.

After all, I was immune to the Seelow Rot. They had no idea where I was…or did they? However, DiNardo said they scanned it for explosives and nothing came up. The man left soon after and I was left alone with the package.

"Why's this in cellophane?" I asked. I opened the box and inside the darkness was a series of old news papers. I knew whoever sent this wasn't a retard, and that was validated as I after I wondered why they'd send me a bunch of yellowish newspaper...there was something inside the wads of old print. I pulled it out and there was a lock vegetable bag, the kind my mother used to store things in the refrigerator. I opened that and found another piece of newspaper wrapped around some container. Now I was getting impatient. I tore open the print paper...and there was a black box with large buttons on it.

Now, I knew this device wasn't another box. Otherwise, I would have thought this person had sent me one of those old school mechanisms. It was similar to that scene in my brother's favorite show, _The Raven Bauer Project_, where the main character opens a secret door only to find it an endless Rube Goldberg of complicated devices before she could just step through the door! I saw this device before. Lillian used it from time to time, as well as my dad. But this machine was _old school_ like old school could be.

And naturally, everyone wanted to know what it was.

"What is that?" Barnes asked.

"It's a tape recorder." Xanthia answered in my place. I opened my IR flashlight and looked at it. Inside was a tape, and on it read: **Play Me - Suetlana.**

"Wait…this letter…" I said, then I looked on the letter head and it was in fact Sueltana's handwriting…and her name! It was from Sueltana! She was alive! I could barely hold back happiness. "It's my sister! She sent me this tape recorder!"

"Tape recorder?!" shouted Vittorio. He laughed hysterically. "Who uses tape recorders anymore? It's 2037! UMDs and Ultra-Ray are going out of style and your sister sends you a tape player!"

I paused for a long moment wanting to savor the moment, but the others were impatient.

"Well, play it! I want to hear the tape."

But I was not in the mood for public displays of my sister's feelings. After all, my sister's disappearance and her past in Versua was something no one in the company except Xanthia knew about. And frankly, they didn't need to.

"Um...no, I want to listen to this alone." I said. My faded naiveté did not allow me time to consider the other's offended reactions to this and I was subsequently shocked at them.

"Come on, Tasha! This could be good." Barnes said. Now I was desperate. I decided to get a little emotional.

"Can I have a little privacy here!" I shouted. I stepped out of the hole and away from the others. I heard Xanthia tell the others to back off. I went inside the jeep and closed the door.

_Jerks_, I thought, _can I have a moment to myself?!_

It was always annoying to have to deal with personal issues in the military. The biggest disadvantage of the Marine Corps was that _everybody_ wanted to know your business. In fact, some got suspicious of people going off alone to read letters from family or reflect on issues. They felt the person in question couldn't be trusted. My opinion was that it was fine to share things with other Marines, but some things just didn't need to be aired out.

"Oh my…oh my god!"

I looked at the shoddy letter under the IR flashlight, and it was a hastily written one. But the phrases, the special cursive...I could have only received the letter in the opened form with name to know it was Sueltana's handwriting. I read it:

**_Dear Tasha and Brandon:_**

**_If you are reading this, I'm probably dead somewhere in this vast wasteland. I'm writing this because you two are in serious danger. I wished I could have got a message out sooner, but I am being hunted as are all of you, as are many people. They, the Soma, have created something horrifying, even worse than this Seelow Rot My husband is gone, captured by these insane people. My daughter is gone as well. I have nothing left. I only escaped captivity by sheer luck. But now my time is running out and I have to get these words out as fast as I can. The Soma has experimented on people with this plague. Some of them…some of them change. They are twisted inside and out. They are…mutated almost. They are like zombies…monsters. They don't care who it is. They infect anyone they can find, even the Hazri…their own people. Some are immune…and they mutate as well. _**

**_The men who took me away from my family, they spoke of both of you. One, a scientist, described you both, and I knew well enough to know it matched your descriptions perfectly. And it was why they were keeping me alive. They mentioned something about an inoculation you carry in your blood. But I managed to flee. Now I am on the run and those men…the Dogmen are hunting me._**

**_I did, in my travels, find something of…great interest to you. The package enclosed is something I found in the Jilachi Desert as I fled the enemy. It belonged to David, your father…something that was left 27 years ago. So I enclosed his package with a…friend and the letter to him to get to you._**

**_I trust you'll find it more entertaining than informational._**

**_This is maybe my final gift to you. But please make sure your parents get it as well. Tell them, especially your father, how much they meant to me, how much I loved them and how indebted I was to them for saving me all those years ago. But tell them not to remember me, as I am alone…everything I love is gone. I have nothing to live for anymore…but I don't think I'm brave enough to pull the trigger._**

**_Love always,_**

**_Suetlana_**

**_P.S. Tell Brandon the dream is dead. There is nothing to dream of in this world. All we have is cold hearted reality inside this twisted, vicious machine we call life._**

I sat there for a long moment, trying to process what I'd read. There were a few things about Sueltana I knew quite well. First, she was always closer to Brandon than she was to me. We both looked up to her, but my brother had a special reverence for her as I had with Lillian Izzo.

_Sueltana Devia. She actually grew up near where I did… _

…_the day Ciudad broke out into the first civil war…_

…_.Peria used to be a suburb and it was burned…_

…_I was so convinced she'd died back with her family…_

…_It seems that her fate now is…no more different than whatever she survived…_

I remembered when she finally left for Yuktobania. My mother was holding my little sister. She was barely out of the hospital but she wasn't going to miss seeing the child she'd taken in from Versua at Astrid's age all those years ago. My dad was shaken up and I saw him cry for the first time in my life when Sueltana got on that plane to go to Yuktobania. But Brandon was the most torn apart of all of us.

"_Don't worry about me, kid. I'll be fine."_

"_Don't go, sister. Please don't go."_

"_Brandon__, don't worry. I'll miss you. I'll send you a present from back home, okay?"_

After all, Sueltana was the main one who filled my brother's head with all those heroic dreams. She reinforced my dad's stories, and she'd often embellish just for entertainment. Funny, she was a kid _herself_when Versuan War happened. She didn't do anything heroic anyway. It was her fault that I was in Yuktobania. I chased my brother's dream that was actually the product of my father's stories embellished by Sueltana's trumped up experiences …and it was something that wasn't even her own dream. But it took me being captured and dressed up while unconscious by a crazy, transsexual scientist to realize that Sueltana's philosophy back then was a bunch of crap. My brother bought it all because he loved her so much. I was bitter about that.

**_Tell Brandon the dream is dead._**

I was pissed at Sueltana. The whole thing was bullshit. My sister spouted all that shit about my parent's heroics and now when my brother was in the middle of this dream…she pulls the rug out from underneath this fantasy and tells him to stop believing. But that was all he believed…and up until two days ago, that was all I believed. But that's all it was…a fantasy. My brother had turned it into his reality. But I knew Brandon though. He wasn't going to give it up without a fight. Something life changing would have to occur for him to stop believing.

But I knew that Sueltana had lost everything…and that was enough to make anyone lose their dreams. I wasn't shocked at all by any of this. I knew enough from Zarolslav that my sister's letter was only a rehash of her crazy dialogues. I was angry, I was sad, and I was helpless all the same time.

It was strange to have such vivid memories of quotes. There was a time in my life that I couldn't remember what I did three days before, but now I was remembering words and pictures…voices from days and years ago. I sat there in the jeep, flipping the tape around in my fingers. The darkness in my mind crept inside my soul and a deep pit of emptiness dragged my soul down into the abyss. I couldn't keep it up. I had to listen to the tape. _What exactly was on this to make me entertained?_

I plugged the tape in. Well, almost. I jammed it in the wrong way. So after five minutes, I got it right and then I had to figure out how to run the damn thing. Andre was right…it _was_antiquated technology. I had to walk back to Xanthia, someone who knew a thing or two about tape players. But this model was so old, it actually predated the 1990s! And it was in Yuke! Finally, we found which button played the tape…but then the audio was ON THE OTHER SIDE!

The letter said my dad owned this when he fought here. _What the hell was he thinking back then?_

Finally, after fifteen minutes of dumbass tinkering, Tasha and I sat next to each other in our hole and listened to the tape. By now, Andre had gone back over to his hole to sleep. And to think that at some point…this was advanced technology.

_Check this out, Edge! Look what I found._

_What the hell is that?_

We were shocked at what we heard. It was the voices of my parents. Xanthia was the only person I trusted with my parents' true story. My parents sounded an octave higher than they normally did. This was some bad technology. My parent's voices were distorted by this thing. They sounded high and whiny. Xanthia told me it was normal for technology back then. _Whatever_, I thought.

_David: It's a tape recorder. I didn't think they still made these. Come on, Edge…I'll interview you._

_Kei: Well, might as well have a little fun with this. _

_David: (Blaze changes his voice to something more official.) Hello, my name is Sky Burgundy and welcome to ONN Primetime. I am here sitting two feet from a legendary pilot in the Osean Air Force, Captain Kei Suiyagi Nagase. This stunning, vivacious, brown haired angel has faced down everything from fighter jets, to gigantic nuclear subs with burst missiles to being shot down and nearly captured by the enemy! Ms. Nagase, welcome to the show!_

_Kei: (Kei speaks, but it clear she's embarrassed to speak, but goes along with it anyway.) Why thank you, sir. I am pleased to be here._

_David: So, what really motivates you in the air? How about a specific focus of your abilities? Do you have any special techniques?_

_Kei: What really motivates me…is not some…thing. It's someone._

_David: Could you elaborate?_

_Kei: He is a wonderful guy, a soft spoken person…most of the time, a man with no fear at all. I would follow this guy into the ninth level of hell and like it. _

_David: What does he look like?_

_Kei: He's about your height, black charcoal hair…big lips, dimple…small ears, huge, dark honey brown irises…and skin like a shark._

_David: Do you want to say something to him over the airwaves?_

_Kei: Yeah, I really think you're a wonderful person, David. And yes, I do want to take our relationship to a new level._

_David: (David snickers.) …and what do you mean by…next level?_

_Kei: Okay, knock it off. Interview over. Let's be real._

_David: (David returns to normal voice) Okay._

_Kei: Now, if we're going to be more serious about this…I think we should be a little bit more professional. I mean, Chopper's onto us…if he doesn't know already._

_David: How professional are we if we're blasting rock songs in our quarters and goofing off on the radio?_

_Kei: Point taken, buddy. (Kei laughs.) Well, I guess I get to leave things in your quarters now…_

_David: "Hold on. You're not going to put your…feminine hygiene products in my footlocker, are you?" (Kei laughs hysterically)_

_Kei: Oh, come on! I'm doing it because I like you. Just…bear with me here. Remember what I told you…you're the first man I've ever been with. This commitment's a new thing for me. It's like being on an alien planet._

_David: It is for me too! You've been waiting for the right guy; I've been waiting for the right woman._

_Kei: I thought I found him a few months ago…now, I **know** I've found him. You don't have to wait for marriage; you just have to wait for the right man._

_David: …well…um...I'm honored to be that man for you._

_Kei: (Kei puts on a childish voice.) Ha! I made you blush! I made you blush!_

_David: No, I'm not!_

_Kei: You **so** are blushing!_

_David: Holy shit…do you realize how immature we sound? We just got back from Operation Desert Blitz and the burning sun and this is what we're discussing? We're like tenth graders here!_

_Kei: Imagine if we'd actually met in tenth grade…I don't think we could stand each other. But how did we get so lucky?_

_David: Well…maybe it's because…we've been alone for so long and we were due at some point._

_Kei: No…you're not alone. I learned that when I first came here._

_David: Kei, we're friends to the dragons, and since they have all the power, but no one can be their equal._

_Kei: Well, every dragon needs a mate, no? But I get to be the gold dragon._

_David: I thought you were more like the silver dragon. (There is a long pause between the two.)_

_Kei: Was it true what you said back in Gublina…about me being like your mother?_

_David: Well, I said you had her mannerisms. I know it sounds creepy…but her death still weighs on me. I stood there…helpless…unable to do anything to help her. That's the same way I felt in St. Hewlett…the bay with carriers sunk by burst missiles…the rookies over Sand Island…those poor Airborne guys who got pounded by the battleship guns ten hours ago._

_Kei: But you did a lot more. That's what counts. Wait…that's tape still running isn't it?_

_David: Oh, crap. I forgot to turn it off._

_Kei: When we're old...we can listen to this and laugh at ourselves. Maybe if we have kids…they can laugh at us too._

_David: We might be getting a little ahead of ourselves…but I guess so. Well, I'm beat…let's turn in._

_Kei: (Kei's voice is somewhere between amused and angry.) Where are you going, mister?_

_David: To bed! Where else?_

_Kei: Oh, no sweetheart. We're a true couple now. You're staying right here, and we're going to cuddle goddamn it!_

_David: All you had to do was ask! (There's the sounds of shuffling about…apparently the move to the bed was rather noisy.)_

_Kei: Well, that's much better. You're so warm._

_David: Well, yeah! We've been in the desert all day! But you smell nice; I'm sorry I forgot to mention it earlier. _

_Kei: Bummed some perfume from one of the people at the control tower. Perrault and Hamilton were up there and Mr. Stiff kept trying to talk to me about my performance today. I was just about to kick him in the nuts just on principle alone._

_David: I'd have paid to see that. (There is a very long pause. However there is more shuffling heard about the room.)_

_Kei: You know…I never got to say this. For someone who's never kissed another woman in his life other than his mother…you kiss pretty well._

_David: Was that better than the first time we kissed?_

_Kei: That first one was everything to me. But this one was much better._

_David: Well, it's an inherited skill. _

_Kei: Oh, come on…you got lucky the first time. Inherited skill, my ass._

_David: Well, it's a shame you hold it with such derision. You've got quite a nice ass._

_Kei: (laughing extremely loud) **Wow**. I never thought I'd hear you say something like that...you randy little bastard, you! _

_David: Well, you are a beautiful woman. My lady, I throw myself at your feet and beg of your forgiveness for my swine comment._

_Kei: Oh, stop! You are a dork. _

_David: Well, you're not exactly the most socially adept person **either**, Kei._

_Kei: Touche. I'm going to turn around now and you're going to pull the knife out of my back._

_David: God, people in love…are so immature._

_(Kei gasps and there is a long pause between the two of them. Kei keeps trying to speak, but can't form any coherent words. Finally, there's a small struggle and more shuffling about. Finally, there are the sounds of moans and heavy breathing that lasts for at least thirty seconds. The logical deduction would be that they are in some deep kiss.)_

_David: So how was that?_

_Kei: That was unbelievable. When we get back to Sand Island, I've got that blue lipstick they sell at Cara's Cove._

_David: That'll be something. Show up to the briefing with a blue kiss print on my face and the Colonel's asking me what's going on._

_Kei: This relationship…our relationship…it's hard for me though every now and then. I've been hurt so many times in the past by people I thought I loved. You're all I've ever had. I was scared by how you'd react if I came on too soon…wait, hold on! Is that tape still on?_

_David: Ah, dammit!_

_Kei: Would you please turn that damn tape off?_

_David: Oh, sorry. (David changes voice back to news reporter.) ...and that concludes my interview with the wonderful Kei Nagase. My name is Sky Burgundy for ONN Primetime, signing off._

_Kei: Wait, wait...one more thing. You know Sky Burgundy sounds like a woman's name?_

_David: Well, everyone thought it was cool when I did that news show in eighth grade._

_Kei: (Kei laughs.) You are such a goddamn geek, Blaze. _

The tape ended there and Xanthia and I were still laughing. We laughed so loud, the Lieutenant had to run over and tell us to shut up. We were crying; it was _that_ funny. We got to a point where we were too weak to laugh.

It was then I realized that Sueltana didn't want anyone to cry for her. She sent us this because she laughed too. That was how much she loved all of us. She didn't want us to think of her in possible death. She wanted us to smile and laugh…just like she wanted to as a kid.

I wondered if Brandon was doing the same thing. But then again, knowing his life…laughter was probably on the backburner. But as we did that, the LT said we were moving out again. 1st Marines and Recon had made contact with the enemy outside some town called Dajul. The initial word was that the fighting was pretty intense. It sucked because I was worn out from laughing my ass off at the romantic antics of my parents. But nothing about Dajul sounded humorous or romantic at all.

It didn't take long to find out how much of a nightmare it was.

**Brandon**

**September 8, 2037**

**Dajul, Jilachi Outskirts**

**0857 hrs**

I was never fan of standing near dumpsters. Waiting with Sheckenhousen and Micho, Werewolf cleared houses inside the still-contested town of Dajul. I was becoming impatient. I looked down at the sand as Lieutenant Dickerson stormed houses with his team. The sand in the Dajul area was often called ice sand because of its powdery, pale complexion. There were a lot more sand storms here to the south of Bargani and the upper areas of Jilachi. I had killed three insurgents, two with headshots. I encountered them when MacGruber took us on a house raid and saw them standing disoriented after the flashbang grenade went off. It was easy money. The other took three shots to bring down. It was some large guy just outside a pile of burning tires on the far eastern side of our sector. He rushed me with a shotgun, but he couldn't shoot for anything. How in the world did he miss me with a shotgun?! I was more insulted than grateful to be alive. This was our enemy, a useless bunch of civilians posing as soldiers.

And this was the same enemy that needed to see my sister's daughter without a tongue. But it probably wouldn't have fazed them. They'd probably laugh at us.

Things moved fast in the military. The biggest disadvantage of the Marine Corps was there was no sense of time or day. Overseas, time was always different and usually a person wondered what time it was back home. Some people, like Cameron, wore two watches: one for our Zulu time, our standard time, and the other for Hollywood time. But the biggest problem with war was there was no scheduled procedure. We thought there was, but everything changed and it changed in a hurry. There was no set, organized plan to anything in the military as much as we liked to believe. Your enemies determined the scheduling. That's what Tasha could never understand. The enemy often forced officers to make bad decisions. Dickerson told that to me straight up back in the Bayori Forest. My father told me that back home three years ago.

And once again, the enemy forced us into some hasty decisions. Once Eric and I got back to the company, everyone was already making plans for the assault on this place called Dajul, the last known place where Suetlana was seen. It was also the last known place the captured Marines were seen. Locals, some migrant Hazri, provided the Captain with intel about the area and Command had ordered an all out operation to clear out Dajul and find those Marines.

Things had changed in the company. With Marco gone, Rico still crazy as a loon, and Patterson gone, it left a shortage of Harpoon gunners. Eric the Red had to get on the Harpoon for our team and we were grateful he came back, because the enemy wasn't holding back. The annoying Lieutenant Frost got sent up to Battalion command and a new officer was taking his place. Our company got a brief…briefing on this Operation Mulholland. Cameron was worried. He said, I don't like this. Nothing good ever comes out of Mulholland.

It was a joint operation between the 1st Marine Division and us in Power Recon. Werewolf Company and Vampire Company was teamed up with the 1st Armored Battalion, 1/5, 1st Marine Division. We started out at 0800 roaring in the LARAs up Highway U421 to the contested area. We came into contact with several enemy infantry units. But those brand new F-16XZI Mark 60 models took them out with those new scatter-bombs they had. It looked kinda ugly during the day; however, it probably looked beautiful at night. Marine fighters, the upgraded F-18Zs, aka Zeta Models, flew right above us and prosecuted targets ahead of us. It was the first true time we could take advantage of this much overwhelming air power. The pilots had our positions dialed in before we could even call the air strikes. It got so ridiculously easy I glassed at 900 meters from our convoy. One of the planes vaporized my target in a flash of fire and metal before I could even call it on the radio. It was too beautiful.

No one really had any remorse about the enemy's violent deaths. We'd heard some messed up stories about the Soma, and we'd seen the worst of the Soma's activities. We were avenging a lot of people. I was avenging Lucy, who'd been a victim of the Soma's experiments…as well as many others.

Things had become rather highly charged. Oured was up in arms about Carile Southerland's and Lillian Izzo's capture by the enemy. They had become rallying points for generalized anger against the war. For us, there some story about two female maintenance people in the army who were raped and hanged by Yuke Defectors. I doubted the story's validity…but not many people in Werewolf did. Everyone was on the same page, though some were more brutal than others. As we rolled into Dajul, which was much bigger than I thought, the ROE was nonexistent. Everything was a target.

The armor tore the walls apart and we strode in to where the locals had pointed us, hoping to find the missing Marines. Lt. Dickerson then had his windows on the LARA cracked from the concussion of an M1A1 tank firing near them. As far as we knew, there were twelve Marines. I knew that my sister's platoon leader, that Finch, was one of them.

Marine Air hit the town at 0330 as we were just outside the walls of the city. But resistance was much fiercer than anyone thought. We in Werewolf were searching one half of the southern part of the city while Vampire searched the other half. 1st Marines hit the flanks and found heavy resistance among the outer market areas. We did encounter one Samizat tank, but a pair of bombs from an F-18 took care of that problem.

Once we entered the city, we took a ton of small arms fire. It was an odd balance between ruthless aggression and cautious fighting. We couldn't simply light up everything and every building we found. There were Marines to be saved. What I wondered was this: where were the regular Soma troops? Were they further along in the desert?

We blocked off a large market area, something the locals called a casbah, and searched the buildings. The ice sand's influence on the town was significant because the adobe houses were not the golden brown color like in Bauqenta. The houses were a white-blue color, almost pure pale. But the word _house_was not the right term for the places of residency in Dajul. It was more like a city of endless studio apartments.

As I stood with the others, a massive explosion rocked the center of town. One of the newer Air Force ground attack craft, the A-10GX Model, which I heard had a more powerful engine and more advanced technology, had dropped a fuel air explosive bomb there.

"Whoa. Talk about hate and vengeance." Eric said. Eric the Red was standing near us. He wasn't afraid of anything.

We walked back down an alleyway and MacGruber, Alphonso and Cameron came running out of their cleared area. No Marines were inside.

"RCT-3 just made contact with a battalion sized force outside the city. We're rolling in to support in as soon as Vampire Company's evaced their casualties." The Lieutenant said.

Sheck responded, "Sir, we haven't given this town a once over yet."

"I know, but we gotta move." The LT replied.

I bet the enemy expected this. Someone said that earlier, but I didn't remember who. But I wasn't as surprised, after all. This resistance, it seemed like an obvious thing to do. My parents endured rescue missions like this several times in their Air Force careers.

I could have sworn I heard a moaning sound. I turned and thought it came from the dumpster. All this chaos around me and I could hear _that_. I wasn't the only one who did, as Sheck and Cameron heard it too. I remembered that so-called story about the two women from the Army found dead in a dumpster outside Severja. This meant two things: number one, this dumpster behind us was worth investigating. Two, it wasn't the Soma nor the Dogmen that did that. It had to be the insurgents. As far as I knew, the Soma were kidnapping people for experimentation…not raping, strangling and leaving the bodies of female soldiers in dumpsters.

"What are you doing?" Micho asked shouting down the alley.

"Checking the dumpster." I replied.

I had no idea what I would find inside. It wasn't booby trapped or it'd have gone off by now. I flung it open and found what typically exists inside dumpsters…trash bags. Then I could hear a voice beneath the bags…and they started to move independently. I jumped back for a moment then Sheck saw it as well. We dug out the trash bags one by one and beneath all that fetid garbage was a blindfolded, gagged woman at the bottom. She was not apart of Recon or a Yuke. She had no Kevlar, but still had her combat cammies on. Her hair was very short…but it was a bizarre scarlet silk.

It was Carile Southerland.

"Holy shit! Get Gray up here!" I shouted, "Sir, we've found one of the missing Marines!"

Micho and Walt came running up and I removed the cloth or whatever from the girl's mouth. Carile screamed and cursed as Sheck and I tried to get her out, rather unwisely. That was because when I looked down, I saw her left leg was bent at a weird angle. Sheck and I stopped when he saw it.

MacGruber said. "This is Juliet Actual to Werewolf Actual, we have located one of the targets. Um...one PFC...Southerland."

Carile's eyes looked right up at mine.

"Am I glad to see you!" she said through gritted teeth.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"What?" she shouted.

"I said, what happened to you!?" I repeated. She turned her head to the other side.

"What?!" she said, and it was then I noticed that her left ear was bleeding out the hole, "You're going to have to speak in this ear! Grenade went off by my head!"

No wonder she couldn't hear us.

"Tell us what happened." I asked. Her voice was a hair above a whisper. She was shaking the entire time. I kept wondering was taking Gray so long.

"I tried to get away...he was…one of them was…"

"Did you see any of the others?" Sheckenhousen asked.

"I didn't see…that many. I know Izzo's still alive...the others...I don't know."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wonder if Tasha knew if Izzo was still alive. Tasha would've been heartbroken if Lillian turned up dead. But since we found Southerland alive…but far from well, my hopes picked up a little. My question was…what was Southerland doing in the dumpster in the first place?

The area was getting a bit crowded so Cameron left with the LT to search the next house.

Finally Gray ran up to us with Janson, one of the guys from Team Two. Janson had the stretcher and Gray went to work. As we pulled Southerland out, I saw the true extent of the damage to her leg. Blood poured out of the crack, part of the bone was exposed. Carile screamed bloody murder when that happened.

"About time!" Walt said.

"Got a little held up. It's getting pretty bad up front." Gray said. Now in the movies, you always saw the medic sticking morphine in the wounded soldiers' body as the first thing, but that's not what you were supposed to do. Gray had to stabilize the poor girl's leg, stop the bleeding, and then give the morphine. And that could be several steps down the line.

Captain Morrison was outside the alley shouting into the radio as rounds skipped above him. Down the road, Lt. Riba's group was exchanging fire with insurgents near the casbah. Morrison finally ran back to Dickerson and MacGruber. "We need to move. RCT-3's getting shelled pretty good up there. A couple of Dogmen divisions are bearing down on us."

For the first time in my short career in Power Recon, I heard Alphonso drop an f-bomb. I should have seen it coming; after all he was very negative about the plan. _There's something strange afoot_, he said three hours ago.

"Could they have made the trap anymore obvious, sir?" said Alphonso in a rare sarcastic tone.

"Not really." The Captain responded. "Cas-evac's in five mikes."

Then, there was nothing but the sound of incoming eighteen wheelers. Most people thought artillery sounded like freight trains. No…they were large Mack trucks with bad engines, they broke and tried to stop and their brakes made a horrible screech sound. They impacted some several hundred meters from us or at least, it sounded like it.

"Incoming!" someone shouted.

We all ducked as one artillery round tore through a nearby building. Brick, shrapnel and rock poured down on us.

The enemy artillery that impacted near us caused Gray and Janson to drop Southerland's stretcher and her screams from the impact on her shattered leg was almost too much. It was like listening to a wailing banshee with a megaphone right near me. Ironic, since it was this hearing that allowed me to find Carile in the first place. But it was then I realized that the screams weren't coming from just our objective. Janson had taken shrapnel in his back. But he had used his body to cover up Carile so she wouldn't be wounded twice. All of us had some shrapnel wounds, but the armor suit protected us yet again.

"I'm hit!" Jason said, "My back's screwed up!"

"You're going to be alright." Gray said, going to work again.

There was one problem. The alley way was now full of detritus and with Janson down for the count Micho and I had to take the stretcher through one of the houses. We set her down on the hard floor inside. The walls and floor had the same pale bluish color as the buildings around us. We couldn't risk taking her, a casualty, out into the immediate open with artillery and mortars falling all around us.

The house's left side door fortuitously led to the open courtyard with just enough room for a Seahawk chopper to land. Micho took up a position near the door to watch for the evacuation chopper.

If an artillery round hit us, we were all dead...but we couldn't think about it. I couldn't think about Dulcinea's life without me. At that moment, I had to think about Ms. Southerland's life without Carile. And it sucked, but I kept trying to push out Dulcinea in favor of the mission, when I really wanted to be away from here. I just wanted to be with her and away from these screams. Was it my unborn child that was doing this to me, I wondered as we waited for the chopper.

By now, Carile had calmed down but breathed in short gasps, the way a child would after being hit a few times. After a tense few minutes, Gray and Cameron brought in the wounded Janson. Captain Morrison came into our area.

"Chopper's inbound." He said. But he didn't need to say it, because I heard the whirling blades. Then, as I looked up and through the open space, there were random black bursts in the air. I knew what it was and I just gulped. I was sweating bullets inside my suit and Micho was on edge. I could tell from the way he breathed and fidgeted around. The black burst increased as the blades became louder. This would not end well.

"Oh, damn! AA fire!" the Captain said.

There was a burst of orange behind our wounded friends' ride out of there and the chopper spun around like some stupid-looking child's spinning top, finally crashing right into a sea blue building. It exploded and the entire area was rocked with debris.

"Shit! That was our cas-evac! Now what?!" Micho shouted.

Morrison was shouting on the radio about something and I just looked at Carile who now seemed much more docile. We had to get her out of this city and fast. I knew the Soma would try anything to get her back…and me if they knew about me. I didn't care about myself though. I had an answer for them, and all they had to do was ask the three guys I killed earlier in the day.

MacGruber ran up with Alphonso.

'"Take your team back to the rear with Southerland and Janson. We'll head up to the bridge." Morrison said to my LT.

The bridge was over a dried out river, a tributary that led into the Jilachi Desert's Soryna River. The bridge was still intact, but the enemy still held the northern part of the city.

"Roger. Let's go!" MacGruber said.

Micho and I picked up Carile's stretcher and took her to our LARA. There wouldn't be enough room for all of us. MacGruber needed two of us to stay behind. Micho and I figured it might as well be us. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Carile spoke.

"Is your sister okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." I replied.

"That's good." She said. Her voice was almost happy, glad.

As Cameron helped her inside, he asked her, "What really happened there? Did you hear anything?"

Janson was loaded up and Carile kept moving her head back and forth trying to come up with an answer. "I don't know...well, I did hear one thing."

"What?" I asked.

"We got to go." The LT said.

Carile spoke loudly, "These guys from the Soma...they talked about some guy named Saint Peter...they talked about him...like they were afraid of him."

_Uh-oh_. I thought. The back doors to the LARA closed and I backed away from the vehicle. Gray tapped the vehicle's back window twice and the LARA drove off with Southerland and Janson, the horizon swallowing them in red dust and rock. I remembered the notes I took about the Dogmen. I fished them out of my pocket; my personal cheat sheet filled with Yuke sayings, town names, etc.

_...number one guy...codename St. Peter, El Habib Hazar...commander of the Dogmen...believes he's Jesus Christ..._

Another explosion occurred to our rear and we all turned to it. I figured the worst was yet to come. For a moment, I'd forgotten we were technically on the Hazri's holy land. For a moment, there was this intense feeling of dread as a chaotic war within a war took place to our six o'clock. Up until now, the war had been relatively kind to us in terms of losses. Now it seemed the enemy was no longer playing games. I realized at that moment, the Jilachi Desert would be a killing field.

_Command expects a fight. Expect casalties when we enter the desert. Expect unrestricted use of Seelow Rot. The war's about to get **real** ugly, gentleman,_ Captain Morrison had said.

In 2010, parents and many of my comrade's parents and relatives fought in these same sands. Back then, the overall competency of the Osean military was pretty bad. Resistance was fierce, but mostly the Oseans broke the backs of the Yuke army in this place (or so they thought). Now we were here in the same desert and on the same place our parents fought. But times had changed dramatically.

I kept remembering that a story about the Osean Army's 101st Airborne fighting that Operation Desert Blitz. Easy Company, 1st Battalion, 506th, rolled into an oil refinery with only light casualties. Wardog Squadron had a lot to do with that. Three minutes after the refinery was taken, the Yukes wheeled up MLRS launchers, Paladins, and battleship guns. Of the just over 120 people in the company, twenty five were killed, eleven were wounded...with Wardog saving them! If my parents and Chopper and Grimm hadn't intervened...

Three minutes...that's all it took.

That was one isolated battle in a desert hundreds of miles wide. And if Command thought the resistance in the Jilachi would be _worse_ than 27 years ago...that was some scary shit.

Next Chapter: The Fall of the Teenaged Wasteland


	18. The Fall of the Teenage Wasteland

Note: I'm setting up my own blog, but it won't be up for at least a day or two. I should have an entry soon though. Just check my profile in the next few days.

Chapter 18: The Fall of the Teenage Wasteland

"_The dark times will engulf all and so the darkness will come to the plains and the grass shall be burned by the birds of shadow. The monsters will come forth, not in aggression but in defense of the earth, twisted by the death their enemies have caused. The monsters will be led by a man sent from God. A man between child and adult who is caught between innocence and malevolence; and he will subjugate the darkness. The man shall raise an army of those like him: invulnerable to all sickness, a harbinger of death, and the protector and progenitor of life in his own image. But victory will bring darkness to the earth, many wounds will be made, but the earth will never forget." – The Final Verse of Tatarian Revelations, Second Testament_

**Brandon**

**September 8, 2037**

**Dajul, Jilachi Outskirts**

**1126 hrs**

The streets of Dajul were filled with black dirt and white sand. It should have been beautiful, but the trash and other debris. They were like moles on a supermodel's face. There were pools and collections of human and animal waste…and corpses. No doubt their blood turned the sand to shadow. And that was all separate from the destroyed tanks and vehicles, burning buildings and straggling civilians running for their lives. The fires choked the air around this cursed city. It was a shame it had to come to this, because Dajul seemed like a beautiful place…assuming there was no war.

Most of my company, however, was unsympathetic. Something twisted for most of them upon entering the town. I wasn't sure if it was only the idea of this retribution fueled trip into a foreign land. Everyone was spitting on corpses or was overly excited at the destruction of buildings. There was one incident where Kell was excited to see dead civilians. It was disturbing.

This war had put me in a series of bizarre positions on and away from the battlefield. I wanted the war to be over, and with that I could go home and be with Dulcinea (after all, nine months from the thought, my girlfriend's stomach was as big as Belka).

But I couldn't leave without knowing where Sueltana was. Two different families were pulling at me in some sick game of tug of war.

"Why do you care about her so much? She lived in this mess. She knew the rules. People are dying all over the place. What makes _her_ so special?" said Walt…said the person who got arrested for taking a chair to _his_ sister's head over nothing.

Sueltana Devia _was _special. Two of the six most important people in my life planted the dream in me: my father…and Sueltana. It helped me make the decision to join the Marines and the fact that loved her as much as I did Tasha. Sueltana had survived a _lot_ as a child. For her to die here after over twenty years of struggle…I couldn't deal with it; it was unthinkable and yet as time went on, it was more and more plausible. This war was the result of greedy, powerful men with an inferiority complex plus religion.

Because of this and much more, emotions were starting to run high. Mistakes were being made.

I'd killed an enemy soldier on the way from the bridge. He was some infiltrator that tried to blow us up while we loaded up in the LARAs. He carried a small pamphlet on him. I picked it up and read the passage off it.

"_In the end days, there will be justice for those who are unworthy of salvation. The great God of the Hazri people will grant them the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. With it, they shall bring vengeance to bear. The shamans will read from the testaments and from the mouths of pestilence there will be one voice of madness. A great evil will corrupt the infidels. The darkness will twist the souls of their people and will turn them into monsters. The beasts will obey the commands of the Hazri. Only those who are written into the book of Life shall be spared." – Act 15, Verse 27; the prophesy of Ephesus - The Holy Book of the Hazri _

That was how it was supposed to go. The entire verse wasn't any surprise to me. I knew this so-called Great God was just an invention by a group of people who'd been humiliated by a superior fighting force. After thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that Musharak and the entire leadership of the Hazri, and the subsequently the Soma, were the most emotionally fragile, reactionary, and ultra-defensive people in the world. This Ephesus was a famed hero of the Hazri, and according to Micho's _alleged_in-depth research, which probably included some inappropriate moments with Suzie, the Soma had actually built statues devoted to him.

But oddly, it was Lieutenant Dickerson who refuted this, saying that was nothing more than a fraud. My interpretation of him was this: Ephesus was a phony prophet, like many of his day. Like most of his race, he was shamed by the loss to the Tatars. But his actions came off as a sulking child who took his ball and went home because the Tatars didn't exactly like the Hazri's custom of chopping off people's heads because they didn't believe in their religion. Then again, as in most religious history, the Catholics that preceded them did essentially the same thing. History was fickle like that.

If there was one thing about war I'd learned in my short time in-country, nothing was either hyped correctly. You were told things would be smooth sailing, and then you got hit by a ton of enemies. You were told things would be intense; however, by the time you got there, air and arty had cleaned house and only a few stragglers remained. With most of my team moving Janson and Southerland to the rear, Micho and I ended up joining my old team. It wasn't a surprise at all. After all, I'd spent weeks on Dickerson's team. How fickle the Marine Corps was. Once day you were here, another you were there. It was an endless process.

Wash and Abernathy stayed behind on the other half of our team. Dickerson still had Sheckenhousen, Jenks, Chapman, Mathers, Bennett, Casey, Kell, and Tristan. It was just like old times…sort of.

After the Soma's artillery barrage, RCT-3's Prince Company replied in kind. When they responded, RCT-3's Alpha Company was up on line at the dry river bed. That was some serious danger close. By the time our company got to the river, most of the enemy fire had tapered off. We were then instructed to pull further east and screen the movement of RCT-3's Delta and Hotel Companies as they pushed deeper into the city. I wasn't sure who brought it up, but some said the Soma weren't morning people. It seemed an adequate description of the enemy's half assed effort.

Why _were _the Soma 's troops fighting so poorly? Soma's regular troops had backed up the insurgent forces already in the city. But our advance actually caused them to withdraw in areas. That question was something I asked myself during the morning of the Dajul raid. They didn't fight well, but they almost never surrendered; keyword was: _almost_.

"We got lucky again. The Soma regulars pulled out after we beat them at the bridge." Dickerson said.

"Man, I'm worried now sir. The law of averages does not favor us." Tristan replied.

We'd spent almost six hours getting our asses shot at. Apart from the cosmetic damage to our suits, we'd only taken three casualties. Janson was the first, and then Veras on Team Two got pelted by a frag grenade…from the same guy I shot in the head for his prayer book. Finally, Jenks, who cracked his left leg and tore up his back when an F-18 pilot accidentally dropped a Mark-82 bomb near the building we searched. The floor gave way and he fell almost two stories.

It wasn't easy to forget we were searching for missing Marines. RCT-3 spared no quarter. They tore enemy RPG teams and Dogmen apart with their older Bushmasters (unlike our Nano-based Bushmasters with more range) in search of their 1st Marine comrades. By the time we finished with the non-event at the bridge, there wasn't a goddamn bridge anymore. Not to mention that everyone in the task force searched high and low for possible underground labs. I wondered why Southerland was in the dumpster in the first place. Micho had his theory: _someone had probably rescued her and left her there._But why was she gagged and her leg broken? Sheck had a more realistic theorem:_ someone had a little…fun with her and left her to die._ Worked for me. We looked and turned over every stone we could, but nothing came up. Most of the locals had fled long before the shooting began. Only pockets of resistance remained.

The enemy counterattack had melted on our side in a manner of an hour or two, or so we thought. Fire picked up to the northwest side of the city as our significant aerial presence had shown up the enemy big time. The Allies had gained air superiority after a tense series of air battles, some of them which got a little close for comfort. One Soma Mig crashed into a building some 100 meters from the convoy, but because it was a tunnel near the area, the debris didn't impede us. I could tell that we'd finally gained air superiority even before Dickerson even requested an air strike on a suspected enemy location. My dad told me how he could tell.

_It's a simple thing really_, my dad said, _if you're not constantly flying at a rooftop level over your ground forces…you've won the air battle. Of course, that's true unless you're in a helicopter…then you **always** wanted them flying overhead._

I bet Sorenson…er, Nail 27, could have attested with that. As we motored along behind Hotel Company, I thought about the prayer book again.

"_The shamans command great magic and the deserts of the low kingdoms shall engulf the world in its coarse sand. The beast shall fight the dragons of the world and those fire demons shall be destroyed. The beasts will spread the pestilence unto the lands, poisoning them and never again shall they be lived upon." Act 15, Verse 28; the prophesy of Ephesus - The Holy Book of the Hazri_

Another passage in the prayer book we found had this passage in it. Of course, I'd heard it before. Alphonso had once said that prophesy had some similarities to what was going on in the war, but there were too many holes in the translation. The problem with Hazri's elite was that they took the definition _way_too literally. We hit a bump in the road as I thought about it. In the LARA with me were Micho, Sheck, Kell, Markinson, and Tristan on the Harpoon gun.

By now, Sheck, Micho and I had all but discontinued the bet we made back on Arizona Island about finding valuables. There were far too many issues going on. Some of us were being hunted, we were in constant combat, constant motion…and we, as well as our girlfriends and wives, had other issues.

Sheck in particular; Sheck was the assistant Team leader, and one of the major leaders in the company outside of Dickerson, Morrison, Gray, Alphonso and Davidson. They were the focal points of Werewolf. But Sheck had some issues.

QCC had been under some protests since the beginning of the war. Sheck had told me personally that his wife, Irene, had been physically accosted by squatters because of this new issue…one I didn't even know was going on.

_My wife's boss is this real short Versuan chick named Sasha Masson. Her ex-husband was the guy who flew on Fisch's wing; this Versuan guy named Ammon, who everyone thought was a bit fruity._

That fact was kind of easy to forget. I actually did meet Sasha Masson a few times; real nice woman, very intelligent. She kept trying to convince me to go to college at Bana City. Knowing her history, it was no doubt she wouldn't want me in the middle of a war. My mother actually had stock in QCC and was good friends with Sasha. I met her daughter Mara a few times, but growing up, Tasha and I thought she was a little too daft and materialistic. That's what made the next point shocking.

Apparently, a story leaked in Bana City that someone on the QCC's board of directors _supported _the military's decision to limit media outlets in Yuktobania. I was still pissed off about our Queues being taken away, but this was unthinkable. I thought the entire thing was military driven, and military inconsistencies and unreliability were a dime a dozen. But who would have thought a fierce, _ultra-_left wing city's major business would support a _suppression_ of the 1st Amendment!? Well, this did not fly too well with the citizenry. Convoluted politics aside, it was clear that there was much more going on back home than we ever imagined.

"It's _all _screwed up." Sheck said. "They're cleaning house trying to find the leak. Then they found out someone ordered espionage done, all kinds of wiretapping…it's a mess. My wife's boss, Mrs. Masson…she resigned in protest of the deal."

"What about Irene?" I asked.

"Masson offered her a personal severance package out of her own contract. She got 60,000 dollars tax free…to walk. She also took seven big money people with her. Of course, Masson makes big money; twelve…thirteen million bucks _after_ taxes."

"When did this happen?" Micho asked.

"Just a hair over three days ago. Now people are trying to suppress the story. It's a mess."

Sheckenhousen wasn't the kind of man to meander about a lot of things...but this mission had made him rather talkative. Men like Micho and Sheck were not people who constantly talked about the people they loved. Micho's reasoning was obvious to me, like his father, he needed the isolation to keep him sharp. For Sheck, while it was clear he cared about his wife…he didn't talk about her that much. I suspected it was the same reasoning as Micho. Alphonso didn't talk about Kate, mainly because everyone made fun of her. But I knew the real reason why Kate was so ridiculed. It was a perfect storm. Kate was actually pregnant, her mother's side of the family, like my mother, had a history of miscarriages, and Kate by physiological design had a slightly faster metabolism than a normal person. I only kept the secret becuase Alphonso admitted he wasn't an angel anyway, but I knew all along.

The reason Kate was pregnant was because Alphonso brought her with us when we had libo during Recon Training. We were sent to Fourty-Oh-Four on Zealus Island for our Naval Operations training. Zealus Island was the best and worst place for a young marine on liberty. It was party central. The drinking age was absurd and Micho damn near died of alcohol poisoning (well, that was an exaggeration, but he was pretty drunk the whole time). The strip clubs were _insane_.

Of course, I barely survived to tell the tale. I was proud I didn't succumb to the temptation there. There were plenty of times I could have cheated and my girl would have never found out...but I didn't.

Fourty-Oh-Four had eaten young Marines alive...and old ones as well, like sharks to wounded people in the water. 404 had destroyed a _lot _of marriages and other relationships. Alphonso remarked that the 404 was responsible for half the divorces in the Marine Corps. And how could it not? Zealus Island was _packed_ with beautiful women that gave all of Cameron's girls in Hollywood a serious run for their money. However, even if you were an honorable person...crazy stuff still happened. Kate ingested some drink that was an aphrodisiac. One thing led to another...

Tasha wasn't immune either. My sister and her best friend got wasted in the same hotel I was in and ended up covered in body paint. There were rumors about the night before involving some drunken, semi-romantic tryst between the two and some guy who worked in the mail room down there. When I told Micho, he laughed his butt off and said, "Well, no wonder they're so close!"

I thought about Lillian and Xanthia for a moment. I hoped Lillian was alive, but I also hoped nothing happened to Xanthia. Xanthia and Lillian were best friends since the start, even before boot camp. They hung out a lot in Cara's Cove and Toreno, as well as Akerson Hill. Micho and I had been friends for ten years. If Micho died, I'd have been crushed, but Micho would have expected death on a front line battlefield. But the enemy didn't care who you were. If you had a gun...you were a target, period, end of sentence.

Tasha definded her self through me...and _her_. I could never imagine Tasha losing Xanthia. Rico was one thing, but I knew if either of us died…

The only difference was, at least Tasha could understand why I was gone. I was the hero. I wasn't changing that tune anytime soon. I knew my dream would be put to the ultimate test. It was just a matter of _when_.

**1326 hrs**

Barring struggles in Corporate Osea, we had our own problems to deal with. We'd survived the initial attacks, but the enemy was still out there among the outskirts of the city. So far, we'd only found Carile Southerland alive, but she was it. But two of the dozen or so other Marines were found dead in some part of town, at least which was what the LT told us. I was tired of sitting around. Vampire and RCT-3 had cleared out the town except the northeast. Dickerson came back after a meeting with the Captain.

"What's going on sir?" I asked.

Dickerson pulled out his usual map sheet, "Team Three's reentering friendly lines. They should be here within about fifteen or twenty mikes. Captain's got us heading up about two blocks, breaking off from RCT-3 and searching the outlying region. There's a junkyard on the very eastern edge of the city that's got some enemy activity according to our Cobra escorts. They've been told not to engage the area because of the possibility of friendly casualties."

"We're Oscar Mike then, sir?" Sheck said.

"Affirmative." he replied.

We all started to mount up and a song came back into my head. Chapman was singing it back in the Bayori Forest, but when I sung it...Chapman told me to shut up and stop murdering his favorite song. But Big Willie wasn't here, so I put on my best country voice and...

"On the road again, on the road again…the bandits and gypsies come down from the eastern hills and with that we shout, _how ya'll doing tonight?_ We've come here to sing a song for you and sample your whiskey tills…" I sung, putting my weapon in Red Con One.

But after a minute, I noticed everyone staring at me. Dickerson had his usual, _what the hell is this kid talking about_, look.

"Dude, I think it would best for the platoon if you didn't sing that song anymore." Micho said, nudging me to break the silence.

"Shut up, Micho." I snapped back, "Maybe I should tell them about your shower rendition of _I Kissed a Girl_ using your brush as a microphone."

Micho's cheeks turned a beet red and everyone laughed.

***

The scrapyard was a massive place. It was the size of a small city mall plus the parking spaces. Now, a small city was usually 50,000 to 150,000 people. It was always the main attraction and it seemed larger than it should have been. In Oured, there was Germantown Park, a city just on the outskirts of the city. Germantown Park was actually an extension of West Oured or Arlington Park as it was once called. Germantown Park was where Kate, Alphonso's fiancée, was from. The city had the second largest mall in the world: Sky Mall Megaplex. It was a large and inviting place. Nothing about the junkyard could describe _that_.

The junkyard was on the eastern side of town, its own island in that part of the city. It was within the walls of the town, and I could never figure out why these cities had them. It was 2037, not 1037. Did the Soma think we were going to lay siege to the city with catapults?

Inside laid a myriad of wrecked cars and planes of all types. There were pieces of passenger jets, fighter jets, prop planes and gliders. There were the wreckages of sports cars and trucks laid side by side. Here, the beauty and grace of vehicles were a non-factor and all around were the graves of once well engineered machines; machines that took days to weeks to build and only seconds to destroy.

The facility had barbed wire all around it and hundreds of crows circled around the repository of junk and dead human-made, inanimate pompous. What amazed me was that there were _actually_…crows here. I hadn't seen a crow in weeks, even back at Arizona Island; much less seen any birds at all. The only animals we saw were wild dogs and wolves…and the dogs were actually the Red Coeei species indigenous to Yuktobania and Versua In fact, Lillian Izzo told me a story about her and my mother being shot down and were attacked by several Red Coeei dogs in the Versuan desert in 2016. But I didn't consider those dogs animals. They were scavengers and any creature that couldn't disregard the dead was not an animal to me.

Ironically, there were corpses of wild dogs in the area. And the crows only meant one thing: death.

Micho put a postage stamp on that when he angrily said, "Morta."

It was the Old Verusan word for death. In Rouge Park, the Versuan-immigrant capital of Osea, there were plenty of old folk stories about crows and death that had been around for thousands of years. Versuans had plenty of superstitions about crows. I didn't think it was a coincidence that the aggressor state in that 2016 was called the White Crow.

In _Catch a Lighting Wave_, Izzo commented on Andrew Fisch, a pilot who flew with them during that time. Of course, Fisch would have been perfect for the Marine Corps if he wasn't an officer. He was a drinker, a gambler, slept around like crazy, watched a lot of sports, and loved war. He would have fit right in. Fisch had a quote before the so-called suicide mission he went on; he'd say, "This is some bad juju."

There was nothing about this place that screamed good juju. It was obviously a sinister place. _Some evil this way came_, I thought.

Sheck was driving this time, Tristian then called out something to him. He said, "Lima 2 to Lima 1, I see fences. We're gonna the bolt cutters."

"Just bust down the door." Dickerson called back.

Morrison ordered a increase to speed and Sheckenhousen did just that, he rammed the gate down. I mean, there could have been an ambush, but whatever Captain Morrison wanted...

"All Victors, maintain dispersion." Morrison ordered.

We spread out in the open area. The junk town area was a maze to the outer perimeter. This had ambush written all over it, but nothing happened as we entered the place. To the rear were a series of warehouses, but most of them had been bombed out and were on fire; so much for avoiding the _possibility of friendly casualties_. The crows scattered when we approached them. We moved to a herringbone and dismounted.

"Got a few buildings right in front of us, 100 meters. No personnel." Tristan said.

"Roger. This is Werewolf Alpha to all units, dismount and begin search and sweep." said the Captain.

We collected ourselves and began to move out. Dickerson came up to us with the rest of the team. "Sheck, you take the left side, I'll take the right."

I took a short look at a prayer book on the ground. On the open page there was a splatter of blood on it. All around there were splatters of blood. I looked right at the page and read: "_The monster within the hearts of men shall rule. In the end, the greed of the Shamans shall overtake them. The death of the Dragons will give rise to new enemies. The monsters rode on horses covered in metal and behold…their leader atop a pale horse. The monster King called himself death and Hell followed him. The Hazri will stand against the Monsters…the final battle at the end of time."- Act 15, Verse 29; the prophesy of Ephesus - The Holy Book of the Hazri_

If this was an accurate interpretation, that would mean the Hazri believed all of this, the war and everything, the virus...it was true. But the translation could have meant anything. Maybe the dragons were actually dragons. That meant that Ephesus, this so-called prophet, was a drug addict or something. Then I saw some movement in the distance, someone else called it out as well. The crows bellowed on the downed and derelict power lined.

If Lillian Izzo turned up dead, Oured was going to be a firestorm. It was already bad, but Lillian Izzo was bigger than most of the war's stories. Oured would line the streets for funeral. After all, she was an ex-military…a pilot, a war hero. But then there were my parents, who knew her and shared a tent with her…and were on the wrong end of some her quirky behaviors. There was Cormorance Alou, who was one of Lillian's best friends and was the also someone he would have died to protect in the Versuan War. There was…there was Helena Southerland, her fiancée, her lover, someone who she called her an inspiration…

We _had _to find her…and hope she was alive.

"Sir…we found something! Along the north side. Bodies everywhere!" said Kell.

We followed Kell and sure enough to the north, we found a pile of people who'd been shot...mostly civilians. Oddly, I'd become numb to it on the outside. Somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten that Abernathy and Wash had stayed with us. Abernathy walked up to the dead Hazri and whistled.

"Damn, son. No kinder to their own people." said Adrian.

Adrian didn't seem put off as much as I thought he would. His dad had probably died days ago, but I knew Adrian and his father weren't close at all. But Wash was about to say something when he pointed his gun right at someone moving around east of us. We all snapped our heads to the right and Wash came out gangbusters against what appeared to be a surrendering enemy soldier.

"Fasu Mara! Vaste!" he shouted, running up to the enemy, X-88 in hand.

The man was small...young. He had a short black hair cut; his eyes were deep brown and had a light beard, as if he'd shaved it recently. His tan skin was a little lighter than my own. He had his hands together as if in prayer and muttered his words at a quick, almost unintelligible pace.

"What the hell's he saying, dude?" Wash asked me. Wash only knew the usual Yuke phrases, but looked to me for the full translation. I hesitated for a bit.

I noticed his clothes. His robes were not the typical fundamentalist robes the Hazri soldiers wore. His were a powder blue with intricate designs on them. But the wear and tear of war, as well as the dust, had almost ruined them. He was definitely a Dogman soldier. Some of them wore such things, especially when we searched the bodies in the Bayori. But this was the first true Dogman we'd _ever _captured alive. He had on a belt of some kind of ammo...but it wasn't Ak ammo. His dialect was eastern Jaair, the mesas east of the Hazri. The Jaair were less intense than the Hazri. But there were confusion about them. All Hazri were Jaair Yukes, but not all Jaair Yukes were Hazri. That was the difference.

"He's saying he's innocent. He gave up his arms or something. Saying he's tired of this place, I think." I said.

Wash was ticked off. He started to rough him up a bit, and Dickerson had to step in before any war crimes were committed.

"Stop! Please! They…they used the green stuff on them!" said the Jaair, pointing at the bodies we found, "They failed the tests..."

Bartlett. I remembered Bartlett's words. _He did all kinds of twisted things to people._

Sorenson..._The people in that incident outside Mogani…some of them were…mutated._

"What are you talking about…green stuff?" Dickerson asked.

The man's voice became panicked, "The vials…the sickness…"

Sheck put the picture together with, "Seelow Rot! They're deliberately infecting people with it?"

Now it was all starting to come together. _Saint Peter leads a force to ambush us rescuing Marines from the people who experiment on their **own** people to test a virus._

And yet, none of it made any sense. But this guy, this Dogman, had answers...I knew it. It was these same people that did that horrible thing to Lucy. I was angry. I was going to get some answers.

"Who are you!?" I asked. "You look little fancy for a civilian. Haircut's kinda short. You're not fooling anyone!"

I almost lost control. I wanted to kill this man, but I couldn't.

"My name is…Ahmad Pavol. My brother was taken by them…turned into…a horrible thing. This sickness…it's more than they claim."

"Who's doing this?"

His voice became soft, his eyes wide, and his face as pale as a ghost. "The white coated man; the doctor is a man whom everyone fears to speak his name. Most of us were forced into this. The troops you see…the Dogmen, the elite…the Druza…"

"Druza?" I asked. That scared me, I had no idea what _Druza_ meant.

"It's old Yuke for _pioneer_. He's talking about the insurgents." Sheck said, "So you were conscripted?"

"More...conscripted at gunpoint. Most of the people didn't even want this war to happen." said the man.

"You mean to tell me that your people…didn't want this war?" I asked.

The man became noticeably calmer. "Most of us live in fear. We lived by the old ways and were happy…but Musharak…that bastard…he believes he's someone higher. He thinks of himself as a king in the old Belkan stories…the knights. There are actually Dogmen in our kingdom, the elite of the elite…called the Dog Knights and have the authority to kill anyone they name as infidels. They answer only to our ruler. I used to be a worker…a contractor, my brother and I…working on a statue of our leader. I was conscripted into the Dogmen…because of former military experience. But…my brother was taken one day…and I saw what happened to him…they turned him…into…a raging beast. A monster. That sickness…"

Dickerson got on the radio, "Okay, umm…Romeo 2, Alpha, this is Lima 1. We got prisoners we need escorted to our rear."

Now it all came into perspective. Musharak wasn't really trying to rule over Yuktobania. He saw himself as a god-king or something. And these Dog Knights…whoever they were, must have been awfully efficient at enforcing compliance from the people. Now I knew that the war wasn't just about a virus. It seemed the Hazri just wanted to live in peace. I stopped pointing my gun at the man and helped him up. I saw the smile on his face...and for the first time, I didn't think so lowly of the enemy. Where all the people we'd been killing like him? Forced into war?

Sheck took this Pavol to Riba as he walked up and restrained the man. I walked away from the group and Micho followed me. He was about to say something when...

A scream. A woman's scream...and a man's yell.

"What the heck was that?" Micho said.

Micho had moved to my left. In front of us was a pile of wood, stone and other crap. There was a large broken piece of mirror glass in the ground. The wind picked up. And out of nowhere, an insurgent appeared with a gun in his left hand. In his right, there was a woman...a noticeably pregnant woman.

"What in the world!" I shouted. I pointed my gun at the man. I couldn't even see the woman's face; she had the stupid shawl on! But it was not the time to blame her. We had a hostage situation.

"Hey!" Micho shouted.

"Stop! Put down the weapon! Let her go! Now! _Asu! Moras vaise ena caras! Asu! Mate shue!_"

The insurgent's voice was cold...almost too cold. He sounded like no one I'd ever heard before. "Basue, ozandi…kainda morte tu es miraes. Baste! Wastu, marsi."

_How can you save her, foreigner….if you can't save yourself?_

I wasn't fazed. I moved forward towards him and the woman whimpered. I knew what to do. I had to make myself a target so Micho or I could shoot the man; make him point the weapon at us. Easier said than done, but we had to do it; failure was unacceptable. This woman hadn't done anything to anyone. This was what I came to Yuktobania for...now I had my chance to prove to everyone that my dream was not some fantasy world idea made up at two in the morning after last call.

"Marsi bote…garote shue, Ozandi." _Come closer and I'll kill her, foreigner._

What happened next was almost impossible to describe. I saw the shade of a man's image in the reflection of the broken mirror pane. Before I could even react, he'd jumped up! It was a second insurgent, but his gun was pointing in Micho's direction! Something triggered in me and I fired two shots at the other direction. The other man was dead. But I heard two different shots. One was from Micho's gun; the other was from the insurgent's gun. Both the woman and the irregular soldier fell. I ran over to the woman to see if she'd been knocked down. And all I saw was a gaping, bloody hole in her head.

Micho ran up to me, asking me if I was alright. I started pounding the ground as others ran up.

"No! NO!" I shouted, "Damn it! Where the hell did they come from?! Damn, damn! I should have been faster! Goddamn psychos!"

I should have known I'd be tested. And I showed up unprepared. In another time, it was the story of my life in math class. Now, someone had died because of it.

***

It was all me. I had a chance to save that woman…and I didn't get it done, plain and simple. I sat near the LARA with Micho. Micho went on and on about Rachel and their baby, but for the first time in weeks, I didn't care that much. Sometime after the incident, everyone in the company had reunited. Ahmad and the others were taken to the rear. It was some twenty minutes after, and I still stewed about it. I tried not to let my disgust show...but that was real hard to do. The others on our team had gathered around a few of the other LARAs. Carile was okay. She was in a shock trauma unit, but her leg was infected and they had to amputate. She still had no idea how she ended up in the dumpster. Walt and Teller were talking about what went down earlier. Word got around about me and the woman. This would not end well.

"So, after the kid comes we're moving to Toreno. Rachel got some pretty good bank from her dad he'd saved up for her since she was little. She's got her eyes on a couple houses in Toreno. It's just outside St. Hewlett, about a twenty minute commute or so. Not a whole lot of traffic…and they got some nice schools there, great scenery. We just got to wait until this damned war is over." Micho said.

"Why? She's got the money." I said, disinterested.

"I've also got some money in this as well. I made her a deal, she gets the house and I get to play around with the basement. I'm going to have all sorts of big screens and nice couches down there…"

I turned my head away and looked at the smoking city. It seemed the ruins were all that was left of my emotion. Some of the other guys were talking about it, but I didn't pay that much attention to it. That was, until Lieutenant Dickerson came up to me.

"Look, don't worry about it. You did the right thing. That's what counts." He said. Dickerson walked away for something else, but I sat there along the side of the vehicle and sipped water from the canteen while Micho droned on and on about his Alpha Male grotto he hadn't even built yet.

Was it the right thing? I wondered if the LT's words were mere pragmatism, or if he truly meant it. You had to wonder about that in a tough, murderous, bottom line business like ours, or at least…so-called bottom line. Seventy percent of people in the Marines were either liars or embellishers. And I did as well from time to time. I had chosen survival in the instance. Kaida had a point. It was a split second decision. Yet it didn't make any of it right in a twisted sense. My job was to save that woman, but the man had his gun trained on Micho…

And despite my senses picking up the enemy just in time, the woman still died. A pregnant woman at that. Micho was alive. I wasn't a hero there. I failed. I couldn't save both of them. But even as I sat near my LARA frantically drinking water to calm myself down, even a half an hour afterwards, I found hostility in some strange places…and some not so strange. The change was bizarrely quick. The others on my team did not react well to my problems.

"Hey! Quit sulking about that! There was nothing you could do!" Walt said, "So what were you going to do? You couldn't pull off some video game magic to save that bitch!"

That _was _correct, but I was good with a gun. The two targets shouldn't have taken more than 2.5 seconds to shoot at. I was lazy; I took too much time after Micho's attacker went down. But a Dogman, a fanatical, murderous unwashed barbarian, beat me on the trigger. It was unacceptable.

"And what if you'd saved her?! You'd have to explain to Rachel why her husband is dead because you wanted to play hero!"

That too _was _correct. But I had too much time. I screwed up. I should have saved them both. The damned gunman wasn't even pointing at the woman when he turned to me. Walt's argument was flawed. There was no guarantee the gunman would have killed Micho at _all_. The suit could slow down an Ak-47 and generally speaking…the Hazri Dogmen were terrible marksman; inconsistent at _best_. But what if it had? Then I really would have to explain to Rachel why I couldn't save her husband, my best friend. Had I subconsciously made the mistake of holding _all_ life equal of importance instead of just a Marine? Or was it some gray area decision? Walt's accusations had forced me into an unfamiliar corner.

"You dumb, hypocrite…liberal bleeding heart piece of shit!" Walt shouted, pushing me around. I didn't bother to stop it. His diatribe continued and even called me that dreaded twelve letter m-word. Micho said little during the exchange. He did try to break us up when I finally got up and moved to defend myself. But few others even reacted. Not even Sheck. Not even Alphonso. Maybe they were too shocked at what they heard. But the greatest shock came from our world-be-free, threesome loving, Cameron Craft…who _apparently_ had enough of my…_heroic doublespeak_.

I never expected Cameron Craft, of all people, to take me to task.

"You know what?! He's right. You're a selfish hypocrite! All this talk about the hero…give me a break! You valuing the life of some woman you don't even know over a goddamn Marine?! Just because your girlfriend's knocked up means you got to sympathize with everyone?"

"You don't understand anything!"

But if I was shocked when Cameron lit into me, Hoot...Sergeant Teller of all people...

"So you worry about this woman, but you wasted all those guys up until now and not give two cents of concern about them. Then, you talk about this, and yet you want this war to be over? What's going on with you?"

Walt pushed me again, "You want to be the hero to everybody? Then stop talking about it and _do it_…you lying, selfish, do-gooder piece of shit! Then we can tell _your_ mom you died a hero!"

I ripped at Walt and tried to take him down, but everyone was holding _me_ back and not him. That was dirt low...bringing my parents into this petty, ignorant bullshit.

Teller continued, establishing some order to the mess. "This is a goddamned war, Brandon. No one gives a damn about this! Nobody _cares_! The enemy could give less than a crap about your dreams, okay?! Nobody cares about some woman in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

_No one cares? How flawed could a statement be?_

"We're here as warriors! Not heroes! And nobody remembers heroes!" said Teller.

"Shut up! I don't…"

Walt continued, "You should be ashamed you let that guy get that close to your own buddy. You've gone soft man. What happened to you, that ice cold killer from training camp?!"

"Enough! All of you!" Morrison shouted. Morrison finally intervened, breaking apart the chaos. Everyone was silent as a mouse for a minute and he finally spoke.

"It doesn't matter what anyone believes in. We're here as soldiers. We signed up for this. So that means we get to believe what we want. But it is also true that you guys are the only thing that should matter to each other right now. We can't live in the past…or in dreams. The only thing we have is what we're trained and told to do."

_All true, but that didn't mean that I couldn't believe what I wanted to..._

"We're Marines. We obey orders. We kill the enemy. Whatever you want to make of it is fine by me. Now in this situation, we can't start blaming one guy for one judgment call because most of you weren't in the same situation. Now there are some of you who need to get your priorities in order. We got a lot of fighting ahead. No one put a gun to our heads. We volunteered for this." he said. His eyes were locked on mine. I was furious.

_Goddamn traitor_, I thought. He said that _directly_ to me. He looked _right _at me when he said that. It was an obvious admission that Morrison had sided with _them_. I wasn't going to trust him anymore. It was clear that Morrison was only trying to inject morale into a toxic situation that I _didn't even start_. It was my personal problem. I didn't discuss it with anyone. Walt, Cameron, and Teller aired it out because they hated the idea I _believed_ in something…and Morrison sided with them. I knew it.

No one defended me. No one. I was alone. The others were too cowardly to speak up about something I'd told them with no problem. Dulcinea believed in me…but as I stood there in the whisking wind of dirt and rust, I knew her words were nowhere near its weight in gold at the moment. In truth, her words _didn't _matter. I was surrounded by some twenty comrades, guys I'd known since childhood or boot camp and Recon training. Their word was what truly mattered in the grand scheme of things. These were the guys who were bailing me out or I was bailing out; people who'd I'd sweated and bled with…and the ones I'd died with. And in reality, I wasn't in any position to project my dream onto everyone. Maybe if I was an officer...

But then again, it reflected how much different I was from the others. My parents believed in things contrarian to the average person. They'd experienced heroism and the chance to ascend to such a height. Their world encouraged it. My world had stomped on it. The thing was...why would they take me to task _now_? They'd long known about it. Was the stress of war finally getting to them?

For the first time in my life, I felt truly alone. I walked away from everyone, stepping over the bodies and sharp, twisted pieces of steel. Then it hit me. I looked down and opened that bloody prayer book again and looked at the last verse.

"_At last, I was taken from my dream. And from the vision, The Lord said, **Ephesus****, much will change before time is done**. The end is only to the Lord himself. Only our Lord knows the end of the dream." – Act 15, Verse 30 (final verse); the prophesy of Ephesus - The Holy Book of the Hazri_

There was a blast in the distance and everyone started running. Saint Peter's assault on Dajul wasn't finished..._yet_.

I took it back. This Ephesus _was_ right about one thing. It wasn't over yet.

It wasn't over. But even then, I wouldn't have known what to do when I got there.

***

**_Tasha…or Alice_**

**September 8, 2037**

**Dajul, Jilachi Outskirts**

**1702 hrs**

The fighting had gone on pretty much all day. The blasts in the distance, the deafening roar of jets above, and the dead bodies all around the city, victims of a revenge war. Dajul was an ugly city, as ugly as a city could be from 400 meters away. We'd set up our positions and were watching the colors of destruction blanket the city with the spectrum of death and property damage. It was exciting to watch the fireworks from afar. We hadn't expected any major problems at first; however, as the day went on, it was clear that was not the case.

RCT-3 had punched a hole in the enemy's attack. Baumgartner told us that the Soma actually underestimated our numbers. They'd only expected Recon and a small force backing them up. They didn't anticipate the entire wrath of RCT-3 plus Recon, the entire 1st Marine Air Wing and Air Force's 15 TFS attacking the town. Sure the enemy had brought a ton of forces to bear, but their overwhelming army was not quite the crushing blow the Soma thought it'd be. Things still weren't easy, however.

Recon and RCT-3 had taken quite a few casualties in the city, as Zanne told us. Her talents as an RTO were put to good use. They were still getting scattered attacks inside the city. Word around the pipe was that Lillian was safe, which allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief. I had no idea who found her, but I owed him an eternal debt.

I figured the enemy was kinda ticked off anyway. We were downwind of the town…and it smelled like an open sewer. It was _awful_. It was worse than the time the two raccoons got caught in the air filters during math class in 10th Grade. It was worse than the time my mom tried to cook a duck for the first time…and me and Astrid suffered a massive failure of our gastrointestinal systems. Barnes was on the Mark-19 and Vittorio was talking about something with Hill.

Xanthia was in an uncharacteristically bad mood. I had a humorous sense it was probably the rancid smell from Dajul. In a more serious one, I thought Xanthia was furious over something her mother wrote her. She muttered something about _back home_, but there were some artillery barrages at the time and I couldn't hear anything. I tried to find more recordings on my dad's tape for a laugh, but nothing. I put it back in the humvee and returned to my hole in the ground.

I was humming a song; it was…well, what _else_ other than my favorite?

"I don't know why you like that song." _she_ asked me.

"Zanne, it's the voice of our generation. It's…"

"Look, I hate to break it too you…but that song's a lie Tasha…or Alice, whatever the hell you call yourself these days."

I snickered and shot back, "What? What enlightening piece of wisdom do you have today?"

"Your song is not about teenage _rebellion_, sister…it's about teenage stupidity. It's this fatalistic view of a few years in everyone's life where we get to act like daredevils. All this in the most important time in our lives…and we threw it all away. Hell, I did. We all did. Look around, Tasha…Alice...just look around. Most of us were forced into this life. Despite all the dumbass things we did when we were teenagers, this is the best we've got. And some of us turned out okay. But a lot of us didn't make it. The ones who lived got to sing songs about it…and that, my sister, is the truth. That's the _real _Teenage Wasteland." Zanne concluded.

I just gave Zanne a pale, mannequin look.

"Zanne…umm…_hello_? You've gone white woman on me again." I said, then I put on my best Zanne impersonation, "Where's my gangsta bitch at, huh?"

Zanne cracked up. She laughed louder than I'd ever heard her. It was good to have her back. Then she just brought me, her hand around my shoulder and kissed me on the forehead. I let the awkwardness slide off my back.

"I love you girl." She said.

"I love you, too."

She seemed both annoyed and amused, "Oh, Jesus Christ. We've gone all soft on each other."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're going to make your brother jealous."

"Am I?"

"You know something, speaking of brothers…Ta…I mean, _Alice_…my half brother would be perfect for you."

"You never told me about him."

"Well, you never asked."

"You bitch." I said. Xanthia laughed and looked away from me. She had on that same look as a kid who'd just pranked another kid, got caught and tried to play it off like he didn't do anything.

I didn't speak for a few seconds. "Well, who is he?"

"His name's Mateen Hale. He's a pretty good guy. He's an artist, a painter. He's all into that abstract art, you know...the kind nobody knows what the heck it means but the guy who made it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Good luck finding him though. He's in Belka. He got this overseas scholarship for the University of Dinsmark, the last place a black person should be."

Well, I'd already been burned on Rico. I knew I wasn't going to take a chance on another guy unless I had some in-depth research. I hoped Xanthia was prepared to do some background checks.

"Is he for real?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. Almost perfect. Solid dating record, no felonies, no arrests, he's kind of shy…a soft spoken cat. He _does_ like to gamble, but he's real good at it."

"Any kids?"

"He's got a daughter. Three years old. Her name's Cherie and she's a _beautiful_ girl. Real smart too. Her mother's in jail for life though. Got desperate for drug money then she robbed a store and killed two guys on the way out. What a waste."

This Mateen Hale seemed like a nice guy, and he was from Xanthia's pedigree. The gambling thing wasn't as much a red flag as Zanne would have liked me to believe. My father was a pretty good card shark and I knew Mr. and Mrs. Bohr down the street loved Atlantic Park in Providence, aka Las Vegas North. My friend told me that Mateen kept a separate bank account for gambling money. It was a slight risk, but it seemed this guy was a good man to rebound with. Though, at the lowest common denominator, I figured as long as Mateen wasn't a rapist, a violent criminal, or insane, he seemed like a decent guy.

"Maybe I will look him up."

Xanthia laughed, "Well, I'll put in a good word for you, girl. You know what they say: _once you go black, you never go back_."

"Oh my god, Zanne!" I replied.

"Now when are you coming to visit my family? We got to get this done when the war's over. My mom's _dying_ to cook for you."

"Does she make a real good duck? My mom's cooking, especially when it comes to poultry, is a little inconsistent."

"Maybe."

"On another note, word around the campfire is that your brother's gonna be a dad."

I arched an eyebrow and stared right at Zanne as if she'd told me the world was flat and had some evidence to back it up. I could only imagine my parents' response.

"Oh, my god! Are you kidding me?" I said.

Then again, everything favored Brandon over me. In high school, Brandon got into a fight with with the star quarterback of our football team, Tommy Mason, in this despute over a girlfriend. Brandon gave Mason had two black eyes, threw him into the windshield of his own car, and broke his freaking nose! Nothing happened. I threw one punch at a girl and sent her through a glass display and I got suspended...and got got grounded for a month! Now, the fact I attacked a girl I didn't like without provocation and Brandon didn't had little to do with it. Well, maybe it did. Brandon was always getting in trouble for his absurd dardevil antics. I got in trouble for petty girl drama and what my teachers called..._a problem with authority_. That probably explained a lot.

Dulcinea having a baby...there was no telling how my parents would react to that. They had been together for over a year and frankly, I was surprised that it took _that_ long. I mean, Dulcinea was a stop-traffic knockout compared to anyone I knew. Given the newer information I learned from Charles and Rico about Dulcinea, she seemed like the kind of girl that if she wanted to have a kid, she wasn't going to be denied. What still surprised me was, despite their questionable lifestyles back then, was how Duclinea didn't get wrapped up in that life. It seemed the Yuke girl had the last laugh. Charles' marriage had fallen apart for more reasons than the Dina Gaudes situation. Jason...didn't care. And Rico..._screw him_, I thought.

The fact I thought about that more than my brother being a dad...let me know I wasn't worried about it all. I just hoped that kid wasn't a boy. The last thing I needed was a Brandon clone.

"My deep cover sources let me know back in Severja. Those aid people are high-tailing it out of the country."

_Phew,_ I thought. At least _she'd_ be safe. Then it hit me, _how the hell did Brandon find the time to get his girlfriend into maternity?_

I shook my head and stretched out my arms in frustration, "How come I never meet any of these so called friends of yours?"

We were interrupted by Andre Vittorio flashing a newspaper in front of us. He walked over to our hole and his footsteps pressed hard into the sand. His face was shriveled a bit.

"Man, I'm tired of these people back home. My mom sent me a news clipping in the mail." Vittorio said, showing me a copy of the Oured Post Gazette. The headline read, _Distrust in Shelley's Administration Grows: The Lies of a Conservative Police State._

"Girl, I'm getting sick and tired of this stupid shit in Oured!" Zanne roared, getting out of our hole and pacing about angry as a hornet. Zanne took the paper from Vittorio and tore it half. Andre looked shocked and everyone else as well.

"What do you mean?" I said.

I couldn't swear to it, but I thought she was crying. "I don't know about the politics…it doesn't matter to me. I'm the one getting shot at…_we're_ the ones getting shot at!"

Zanne walked back to our humvee, "Maybe those people need to think about life and death for a change instead of their mocha lattes and their artwork! Maybe _they_ need to strap on a gun and go waltzing around a battlefield and wonder how much life means to them!"

Vittorio looked…happy when Zanne said that. Zanne went to retrieve something from the vehicle…but I couldn't be sure what. I couldn't disagree with her logic, but I had a sense there was much more going on back home than simply left-wing. right-wing bias.

"You know what? She's right!" Andre said, "We came here to die, Alice. That's what we chose to do. We didn't come here to be heroes. We're here because we signed our rights away to be tools of the government. But I don't care. I'm not complaining about dying. No one needs to bitch about dying…because that's what we signed up for."

I didn't really disagree with them. I thought about Sueltana's letter. What had _really_ happened to her? Did she really lose the people she loved?

"Hey! We got some possible insurgents creeping along our nine o'clock! 400 meters, short berm right in front of the ruined car." said Barnes.

"They got weapons?" Baumgartner asked.

Soon, everyone with a pair of binoculars started to look at the supposed enemy threat. I looked but I couldn't find it before...

"I see an RPG tube!" said Vittorio.

"Light 'em up!" the Lieutenant ordered.

"Right on!" Paul shouted.

I was right near the vehicle, at least five or six meters away. Zanne was directly behind me and Baumgartner, Wilson, and Kent were to my extreme left. Vittorio was to my immediate right. When the Lieutenant gave the order, Paul was the first to shoot.

The Mark-19 was a powerful belt-fed, crew-served weapon that weighed about 70 pounds and fired 40mm grenades. It fired at a rate of about 350 rounds per minute at a cyclical rate. However, most Marines didn't use it at full blast; for more practical usage, it was best used at 60 rounds per minute. Its range caped out at over 2100 meters, but most guns are calibrated for just 1500 meters. But who was really engaging targets at 2100 meters, much less 1500 meters, with the Mark-19? Most engagements occurred between 300 and 400 meters, if that. The Mark-19 was usually a mainstay for Humvees, Jeeps, helicopters, and even certain Marine boats. The Mark-19 had a unique sound to its fire, much like every gun in existence. When it fired, it sounded like the rapid usage of several small slings. It didn't sound intimidating, but when you hit your target…it was all the shock you needed.

I did get an opportunity to shoot it once during Infantry School. I had a little too much fun and leveled one of the old, derelict training buildings they used. But my instructors laughed it off. I wished I could do it again. There was one problem with the Mark-19, however. With all belt-fed, open-bolt, or crew-served guns (some weapons classified as all three) there was the risk of rounds being snagged or jamming in the chamber. Some even went off by accident. With the Mark-19, it was an extreme rarity. Of course, the main jealousy the regular infantry had for Recon was that their weapons, those powerful X-88s could serve as both open and closed bolt weapons. The U-99 Harpoon was actually a Mark-19 that had been affected with intricate nanomachine technology invented by the Mashimi Corporation, the people who paved the way for the Recon Suit. (At least that's what Brandon told me.) These weapons were the main reason Power Recon moved like ghosts across the battlefield. (At least, that's what Baumgartner told me.) They didn't have to worry about cleaning and maintaining them so much.

You were taught in boot that the shortest range for an engagement with a Mark-19 was 75 meters. We had no such worries. Now, there was a possibility of a blowback. Now, the word blowback meant two things. One was the official term. _Blowback principle_ was the usage of the chamber pressure to re-set the weapon upon each firing. The other was the unofficial term. **_A _**_blowback _was slang for one deadly thing: if the round got snagged in the chamber due to rust or dirt or some other malfunction. When a blowback happened, one of two things could occur. One, the round melts or warps in the chamber and the chamber is warped as a result. Two, and the worst possible scenario…the heat caused the round to explode in the chamber.

When a blowback happened, there was no time to react. The first scenario was dangerous, but manageable. The second equaled a dead Marine or several…if people were _in _the vehicle. But you could never think about that. There was an enemy with an RPG tube out there. No time to think about a possible equipment malfunction.

That was the _reason_ weapon maintenance was important. But there was a Murphy's Law in the Marine Corps: _if a weapon can fail…it will **always** fail at the worst possible time._

There were the sounds of the Mark-19's fire. Then there was a pinging sound, a strange auditory mix in the gunfire. I didn't pay any attention to it, but Barnes screamed about something. And by the time I made it out...it was too late.

A blast and a pain in my side followed. A burst of flame shot across my chest and my ribs, my back. A million hot needles struck me and I fell forward. There was tremendous heat at my back and rolled over out of the hole. I was facing up and I could see black smoke cloud the blue sky above. I felt the burning again. I felt something hot and wet against my hand. It was near my left side. I held up my hand and saw blood all over my fingers and palm. I screamed, not before that, but during the entire event. It was excruciating. Then, my next thought turned to what happened. _The enemy couldn't have gotten a round off already_, I thought. But it didn't really feel like an RPG impact either way. Then I heard voices.

"Jesus Christ!" I heard the younger Meyer sister shout.

"What the hell was that?!" Vittorio shouted.

"The Mark-19 exploded!" shouted Williams.

_Oh. No._

It _was_a blowback. Then, it finally hit me. _ZANNE_! She was near the humvee...right behind me...the same one that..._no, it couldn't have been!_

"King! Barnes! Talk to me!" I heard Baumgartner say. "Medic! Medic!"

_No...it couldn't be. She couldn't have died. No! What about her mother? What about her son? He was sick...who would take care of him!? _

Then I finally heard Vittorio's voice. I couldn't move my body, I was frozen still. I was afraid to look over at my friend who was either dying or gone. Andre's voice was up an octave, a panic I'd never thought I'd hear from him. He didn't sound like the NCO he made to be. He sounded like the nineteen year old kid he actually was. His voice, teary...angry...shocked.

"Paul! Oh, shit! Paul! Oh…god! Holy…oh, my god!" he said. "Zanne! Zanne! Sir, she's all screwed up! Her face is just…"

Finally, I turned my head and saw Vittorio pacing about. His face was white; his hands were all over his visage too. He yelled and cursed and came over to me and I could barely stand to face him.

"Calm down!" Baumgartner ordered.

I couldn't react. I had to know. I couldn't speak over the screams. Then, I saw a man I hadn't met in my face. I was looking up into his blue eyes, his breath smelled terrible, but I couldn't say anything to him. I had to _listen_. I had to know if Zanne was dead. If I told this man tending to me, he would have lied to me.

"Check the wounds! Stop the bleeding!" said one of the medics.

"What happened?" I heard someone say. I thought it was Parks.

"Mark-19 must have jammed a grenade in the barrel or something." Vittorio said. He could barely speak at that.

Blowback. I still couldn't believe it.

"Save it…she's dead."

It was only now I could finally speak. I could barely hear my own voice...then I realized I'd gone a bit hoarse. I'd forgotten about my own pain the entire time.

_No…no…Zanne…god…oh, god no. Oh, my god. Please…please let it be a lie. Please…God, please let this be a joke or a dream. No…_

"Stay still." the man above me said. _Couldn't even get a damn breathmint._

I started sobbing, "Please…she's not dead. She can't be…"

"Don't worry about it. You're going to be alright." he said.

"I don't care about me, goddamn it! What about her?!" I shouted.

"She's gone. I'm sorry. There's nothing we could do."

Silence. My mind was black and cold like the edge of space.

Paul was dead.

Xanthia was gone.

My family, my music, my independence, my luck, my life…it all seemed so pointless. I still had all those things, but it didn't mean anything for the time being. Xanthia's death meant I was missing something critical. Losing her was as if one or more of the tiny computers on a satellite, you know the ones that kept it in orbit, malfunctioned and millions of dollars were pulled down by something as simple as gravity; all to be burned to a crisp. That's all it took; one thing to break down and everything else was incinerated. For the moment, I didn't care about anything. The critical piece of me was shattered by something as simple _and_ complex as a jammed grenade in a Mark-19.

Who was to blame? Vittorio? Barnes? No, Barnes was dead too and I barely knew him. He worked his ass off to fix it…but things broke. The answer was no one. There was no enemy responsible, even though they fired at us. There was no one but a mechanical problem in a weapon prone to nonstop problems.

And there they were putting her lifeless body on a stretcher with no one or no place to vent my rage. The pain in my body vanished.

It didn't matter that Brandon was still alive. In science class, we were taught that the difference between AC and DC power was that DC power needed a continuous circuit in order to work. One piece failed…it all failed. That's how I felt when I picked her up and put her on that vehicle to nowhere. I felt like nothing. I talked to Xanthia's mom back at St. Hewlett. She wanted to see me again and she also wanted to cook for me. But I was alone, crying my goddamn eyes out, with no one to be angry at. Her mother might have been better off dropping arsenic into whatever she wanted to make. That's how I felt. I wanted to die.

Hours prior, there were only three iron clad things I believed in: I loved my brother, I loved my family…

And I loved Xanthia King.

And she was gone. Just like that. Almost fifteen seconds or so...maybe nine, who cared?

Back in Severja, I'd cursed myself for believing in the lie that was Rico Lazarus. Back then, I only wanted to run away from it all. I looked back in arrogance at that…as a childish, moronic reaction. I thought I was on a new path, the path to independence and pride.

But I never had it. I was still a child in a place thousands of miles from home…and I was alone.

I remembered the pain that Zarolslav felt. I knew the pain that Suetlana felt. Now I knew what it was to be them. I was alone.

The physical pain faded. Morphine in my body.

I tried to think about _Teenage Wasteland _just to keep some of the depression away. But I couldn't…because as I thought about it, I realized Xanthia was right. That song had nothing to do with rebellion and counterculture, or the transition from the establishment to independence. It was just that. The last lines of the song:

"_Our government is clueless and they don't give a damn about us …'Cause we're from the Teenaged Wasteland baby…and when we're dying at the end, only we will know our true lives."_

She was right. The song only meant we were one thing: expendable. The song had nothing to do with a break from the established order. We were just that: a teenage wasteland. A waste. We were just a landfill of emotion; a massive hodgepodge of purpose and futility hidden by headphones, Queues and _The Raven Bauer Project_. No one in our generation had an identity, and that really _was_ the true point of the song. Most of us died before we could even find out who we really were.

Before, I only wanted to run away. Even as I was lifted onto a stretcher myself, my hands were restrained and I couldn't reach out to Zanne. As they lifted me, I actually considered killing myself. _Would the world miss us? Would they miss me if I jammed an M4 into my mouth and pulled the trigger?_ _Would I be able to take that chance?_

Our generation couldn't do _anything _because we didn't know who we were. We defined ourselves through our friends and family. But Zanne was taken from me. She was a friend since before boot camp in the barnstorming days of sneaking into clubs, acting a fool, and simply enjoying lives that we thought were ours to spend.

We didn't know who we were because we were so obsessed with technology: Queues, Gamma-HD, social networking, guns, and computers. The military had it all, and we joined up because we loved our country and we loved the fact that people died for our rights to use what we loved. But once we got here…all we did was complain about retarded officers, idiotic schedules, and moronic comrades. But we endured. Reality bitch slapped us and it didn't take my entire former company getting killed to break it…it took one person's death to send me into the depths of depression.

My identity had been stripped to the bare components. I had to forge my own identity again. But this time, I was alone in a strange company in a foreign land. It was a land where none of us were wanted.

"_We came here to die, Alice. That's what we chose to do. We didn't come here to be heroes. We're here because we signed our rights away to be tools of the government. But I don't care. I'm not complaining about dying. No one needs to bitch about dying…because **that's** what we signed up for."_

For a moment, I wished I was a little girl again. Just so I could cry when I fell and my dad would hold me and say, "It's going to be okay, sweetie."

The only person that came close to that feeling was Xanthia…and she was gone. Here, no compassion, no sympathy, and no time. The hugs and love were taken away in an instant and it didn't matter how it happened…it just _did_.

I thought about Xanthia's conversation with me about the war protests…and I became enraged. It seemed so hollow to protest something they weren't even involved with. There was a part of me that could never understand why my dad became wrapped up in peace back before we were born.

_Maybe those people need to think about life and death for a change instead of their mocha lattes and their artwork. Maybe they need to strap on a gun and go waltzing around a battlefield and wonder how much life means to them._

It was the last words Xanthia King ever spoke. The darkness of the morphine swallowed my eyes shut. The last thing I thought was how my mom and my dad would have reacted to her if they heard those words 27 years ago…

Next Chapter: Once Upon A Time in Alaska


	19. Once Upon A Time in Alaska

Chapter 19: Once Upon A Time in Alaska

"…_In the end times, devious Dragons will come from the kingdom of the sand. The land of the Chosen will be usurped by the Dragons. The few honored ones will cry for aid and God shall bless the earth. From the ground shall come monsters to avenge the Chosen Land's theft…" Act IX, Verse 29 of Tatarian Revelations, Second Testament_

**David**

**September 9, 2037**

**Juneau, Alaska**

**0600 hrs**

My mother was buried in the cemetery of Saint Monica's Jewel of the Ocean Cathedral on the south side of town. I was in deep need of isolation and solace, even for a few minutes.

Pikes Hugo was only 12 miles from Juneau. Some considered my town just an extension of Juneau. It may have been true, if the entire district was just one city, along with Anchorage. Alaska was one of the largest districts in Osea, but had the fewest cities. The south was pretty arable and thus everyone lived there. The only problem was the north was almost inhospitable. There, you had actual _glaciers_.

Back in the old days, the districts were called states but that old moniker was abandoned in the late 1980s. The Department of the Interior and the Department of Treasury actually suggested that to the president at the time that the word _state_ was outdated. I found that the Osean government had their hand in entirely too many cookie jars.

I supposed I should have hated Madame President Shelley. The more I realized the cost of the war, the more I realized that Shelley had done more to damage my life than anything.

When I was twelve, my mother took me to the Moonstone Glacial Park just north of all the cities in Alaska. It was a beautiful place; freezing, but beautiful. The MGP was the major tourist spot in the entire district. It was amazing to see the aqua picturesque horizon, a gigantic phase of matter frozen in time and had been for thousands upon thousands of years.

I had traveled to Saint Monica's Jewel of the Ocean Cathedral. At that time, Moonstone Glacial Park was no more. It had been closed down nearly two years ago.

One of Shelley's campaign promises was the improvement of the military. It was ironic that she was actually from _our_ District. Something had to go, and government environmental agendas were slashed as if by some imaginary switchblade. The National Parks System was gutted and only a few major national parks stayed open. Everywhere I loved as a child was closed down.

The Okarani River National Park was shut down a year ago. Then again, that was a pretty dangerous place anyway. I was actually thankful it closed.

Echo Park, Oured…it the largest metropolitan park in the country.

The Parasi Oak. _Belle Bohemia. _I was eight years old when it , my first daughter…I took her there. It was a place that had so many heartbreaking and heartwarming stories for. All the dear things of my past…and it was gone.

Echo Park was gone. It closed down almost overnight and before the week was over, everybody with a corporation came to bulldoze the place. And there I stood, helpless to do anything…just as I had been helpless to save my mother.

Most of the places my mother took me to broaden my horizons were gone. At least my children got to enjoy them. However, they never got to meet their grandmother. Catherine Lovecraft would have loved her grandson.

But as I stood there at the gates, the silvery, spiked fences keeping out the ghosts, there was nothing there. I knew what the grave marker said; I'd been there many times. In a way, my mother was another one to blame for my son's hero dream.

My soul was as derelict as the grave markers. There was nothing there. There was nothing to help me, nothing to help my family; nothing but graves.

My father was not buried beside her. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery. At least Shelley had the common sense to leave that place open. In my will, I'd requested that I'd be buried next to Catherine, and Kei would be buried next to me. It was a grim thing to speak about, but I was fifty years old. It was a miracle I was even alive given all the wars and battles I'd fought.

I wasn't afraid of death. I was afraid for everyone I loved. But only a fool of a man would admit this openly.

Unable to find anything, I turned away and got back into my car.

I'd lived all over the country, but this district was my home. The people in this district were an isolated people. They worked hard and took care of their own. Most people in Pikes Hugo, honestly, already knew who my wife and I _really_ were. We weren't criminals though. They kept their mouths quiet and embraced us as their own. Our town had about five thousand people in it. The major industry was lumber.

And sadly, our best and brightest people were in Yuktobania. There were my children, Micho Alou, Walter Snow, Damien Measels, Ally Bohr, Mary Charles, Alton Bennett Smith, Christopher Staffan, etcetera and so on.

That was all I could say after nearly 1,100 deaths in seventeen days. They were in the toughest part of Yuktobania, the Jilachi Desert. However, in the old days….the Yukes were unified. It was a brutal battle in 2010, but it only lasted a day or two. Three days after the second incursion and the army wasn't even halfway through Southern Jilachi.

Back in the old days, the southern desert was perfect for air bases. We took over an abandoned enemy air base and used it as our own. I even found a tape recorder and had a little fun with it with Kei. We were often so isolated from the war that I sometimes didn't pay attention to the cost. Almost of the death were people on the ground.

They weren't fighting a unified enemy in doubt about the war or demoralized by our presence. My son was fighting a fractured, desperate enemy driven by greed and religious fervor, and they would (with only a few exceptions) never surrender. My twin children were fighting irregular enemies who thought nothing of us or their own people.

I had every reason to worry about them. But I didn't worry too much about Brandon sometimes.

At least, that's what I wanted to believe.

**September 9, 2037**

**Pikes Hugo, Alaska**

**0720 hrs**

I was afraid for everyone I loved. I never admitted it to anyone though. However, anyone of common decency would worry about the people they cared for all time.

Some creep had been breaking into houses and thus I bought some locks for the windows of our house, a second lock for the back door and a Pirax anti-theft system for my wife's car. I had a few guns kept in ingeniously hidden places.

You could never be too careful.

There was a time when I knew no fear. The last time that happened, I flew down an underground tunnel for the second time in my life at over 500 miles an hour. I don't even remember what plane I was in. It was all a dream and it was real once. I was just thirty years old. I was fighting a war for revenge. It was a war many months before my twin children were born.

Lillian Izzo pointed it out. It was a drain, or some kind of tunnel shaft. The Verusans had thrown all the stops at us. They were at their most desperate. Thousands of people had died because of a weapon they built to bare fangs at the world. A test of this weapon killed my first child and hundreds of others. That was why me and my wife where in the middle of war. We were caught up with shady government agents, dubious enemies and allies, aces of unparalleled skill and coldness, and this weapon…a weapon named after a Demon King: Dispater.

She followed me. It was a Versuan I barely knew, but at some point, she and I fought against each other. They were part of a squadron created to bring us, the new Wardog down. There were nine of us. There was Michael Sachsenronde, Paulo Scirro, Polly Elbe, Andrew Fisch, Comorance Alou, Hans Grimm, Lillian Izzo, and me, David Lovecraft and Kei Nagase. By the time we'd reached the Dispater, only five of us were left.

2037 came…and only four of are still alive. Andrew Fisch had died years ago as a result of his decadent, reckless life. He was the one who brought Ammon Kaida, Jaklyn Ors, Othello Harem and Emmanuelle Ganda down with him. They were the Versuans who defected to fight with us. Andrew had a determination to join the PMC Air Forces and dragged those once honorable people down to his level. With the exception of Kaida, Fisch and all of the once noble Versuans were dead by the time my children went off to war. I believed that Ors was the father of Kaida's kid, but she'd died before he was a year old, a casualty of some conflict in Fato. And all that money war had caused Kaida to abandon everything he believed in and in some ways, he was a casualty of all the selfish, bloody wars he'd fought.

It was goddamn waste.

If I had a reason to hate war, the end of the Versuan conflict was enough for me or anyone. However, I couldn't hate something that predisposed mankind to terror. War was an endless cycle. It'd never end. At some point, we accepted it. Now, Kei vented her inner rage at something else…Corporate Osea.

I don't think Catherine Lovecraft believed I'd ever turn into the shadowy legend I became.

My mother named me David after one of the Biblical heroes who led the ancient Tatars against the Hazri Tribes many centuries ago. The ancient wars pitted David's _Mininites_, elite Tatar soldiers, against the _Codaku Mardarn_, the so-called Dog Knights of the Hazri. Their ancient city was called Masada. David, with a smaller force, defeated Saladus, the general of all the Hazri. With trumpets, the Mininites blew their horns to make Saladus believe they were a larger force than they really were. Saladus, always prudent, kept his forces on the defensive inside their walled city. But that prudence became their undoing as the city collapsed under the tremendous resonance of the trumpets; the canyons and fragile stones within the city's walls collapsed, burying Saladus and his men alive.

As a reward for their victory, God bestowed the land onto David and his warriors. It was rumored that David and his warriors were the first true Yukes. They called their city Kosaran Sursa, _The City of God._

It was a customary belief that The City of God was somewhere in Cinigrad. There was more than enough evidence to support that. The question was…where exactly in Cinigrad? There were plenty of underground ruins, catacombs, and remaining ancient buildings around the city. There were many that believed that the Kosata Square held the ruins of the original city. Of course, since Kosata Square was the Osean version of South Oured, no wonder the Soma tore through it.

But I had other concerns. I learned long ago to control the battles I could. There was the desire to protect the people I loved, and two of them were in bed together.

My wife was asleep next to Lucy who was dressed in Astrid's old bed clothes from her age, just a pink t-shirt with a white heart on it and a pair of black shorts. They were rather old, but they had been passed down through the generations of Lovecraft from Tasha to Astrid and finally to Lucy. If I could find a good tailor…I could make sure they continued down the Lovecraft family line. Maybe if _Dulcinea and Brandon someday got married_, I thought…

Lucy's mother was Sueltana Devia. Sueltana was someone I cared deeply for. It was strange and ironic that she started her life with me as a ten year old vagabond digging through the dumpsters behind our temporary air base in Versua. As I stood over both my wife and my adopted granddaughter, Sueltana was still missing, a vagabond again…wandering a land ravaged by disease and a psycho group of religious nuts.

She was the closest comparison I had to my first daughter Catherine. She had waited for so long to go back to her home.

Lucy, her only child, was a casualty of a war she couldn't understand. As I learned, it seemed that the Soma had a habit of doing this to children. Apparently, it was part of some religious dogma in the Hazri's land…dogma that was outdated for a reason. It was apparently legal to do so to children and prisoners under religious law. What in the hell Lucy did to do to deserve _that_ fate?

It seemed sad that they never caught up to modern times…the war would have never happened. Lucy hadn't communicated with us in quite some time.

Lucy had seen some terrible things. I saw it in the drawings she did on occasion: blood and death, crosses, huge tanks, sickness…things out of my nightmares. And speaking of nightmares…Lucy would have some of her own. Since she couldn't talk, we had to keep her in the bed with us until we could get her some official psychiatric help.

There was one problem. One, Lucy was a full born Yuke. She was, by law, technically an illegal immigrant. But due to this goofy law in Alaska about child custody, we needed confirmation that Sueltana was dead or alive before they let her legally stay with us. If not, she end up in the foster system and Ally Bohr told us that Alaska's foster system was a dumpster fire. It was terrible. Sometimes they'd end up in different states. The funding just wasn't there to keep everyone in the system on the up and up. There were many kids who were lost in the Alaskan Foster System and never ended up back in their home districts. Thankfully, Mrs. Bohr told us that because Comorance suggested the foster system for a temporary time. Well, Kei didn't really like that…

As for my wife…she was still Kei Nagase underneath the first wrinkles, the slowly fading brown hair, and her worn brown eyes. She was still beautiful after twenty seven years. Kei never thought about death…but I could never picture life without her. But I was half a century old. Such thoughts should have been more prevalent anyway. She and I had been through many sleepless nights, heart wrenching struggles, difficult times, and frustrations…and that was just raising our children as babies. That didn't count their teenage years. That didn't count dodging burst missiles, falling satellite debris, UAVs, falling tunnels and superheated electricity. That was easy. It was hell getting our kids through infancy to adolescence, especially Tasha. But in the end, as with most kids, the struggle was well worth it. I gave all that credit to Kei. I wouldn't have made it without her. And I'd never stop loving her.

I owed her everything. After all, this was the woman who'd saved me countless times, did the grunt work in raising our kids, and basically figured things out that I never thought of to survive, kept everyone together and kept us alive and nursed us back to health (_especially_ Brandon with his testosterone fueled daredevil acts) and in return this was the woman who let me kiss her, make fun of her, buy her silly and romantic gifts, make love to her countless times (we'd kept a coin jar for our nocturnal activities and financed Brandon's trip to Oured with it) and now, she'd let me wake her up with a tender kiss and a greeting fitted for a romance novel.

_God, what I ever do without this woman?_

"Morning, honey." I said.

Kei barely spoke. "Morning."

Her voice was rough. My lips brushed her forehead and she was burning up. I didn't need to be told what to do. Kei turned her head to me.

"I take from your tone that you're not going anywhere, right?"

Kei had to go to work for this insurance company, but not today.

She moaned a little. "Nope. Ugh, I feel awful today."

Kei was facing with her back to me. She was on the right side of the bed as the door faced left, the side I slept on. She was holding Lucy in her arms, a still easily frightened girl. Part of the reason I left the house was that Lucy, who still had terrible nightmares, kicked her feet a lot in her sleep. It drove me crazy. But one thing at a time.

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"God, that's so first grade." Kei said, her nose chock full of mucus and phlegm.

Then, her nose crumpled up and she sneezed all over my hand.

"Whoa! Watch it!" I said, recoiling.

"Sorry." My wife said. Her eyes were half open. But Lucy was still asleep. That girl could sleep through the Apocalypse. "What's going on? You take care of everything?"

"Astrid's staying over Sara's house. Her mother's helping them with her project."

"Oh."

"Lucy's still not talking to me. She's not even writing anymore." I said.

"Poor girl. I still can't believe that someone…"

"Calm down, baby. The last thing you need is stress. Let me get you something for your cold."

"Are you and Cormorance going to sell that house today?"

Comrorance and I shared some property and we were going to sell the farmland off and split the profits. The problem was that the buyer had some personal issues and postponed the sale by two weeks.

"Nah…it can wait." I replied.

I pulled the covers back over the pair, because I knew that waking Lucy up was a 50-50 proposition. It didn't seem to make any common sense to leave next to a sick Kei, but Lucy wasn't any ordinary eight year old. The things she'd seen and heard were horrific and I didn't want to do _anything_ to upset her routine. It was the _least_ we could do for her.

I fetched a glass of water and some cold pills from the medicine cabinet and walked back our bedroom. I placed them on the table next to the bed and Kei fumbled around to reach them. I had to keep the lamp from falling over. I turned the thermostat slightly up, turned on the television and set the volume low, unplugged her phone and turned off her computer.

The phone rang a moment later, so I walked downstairs and answered it. When she was little, Tasha always tried to ask me for something when I was on the phone. It used to drive me nuts.

"Hello?" I said.

A voice was heard, and it was one I recognized, a woman…but yet her voice seemed mysterious all the same.

"Mr. Black, this is Helena Southerland." She said.

I didn't talk to Helena much. My wife did. She was the goddamn maid of honor for Christ's sake. It was slightly against tradition, because usually the maid of honor was unmarried (at least as far as I knew). But then again, none of us had never been to a lesbian wedding before…

There was the tragic point, however. A wedding that was…assuming Lillian Izzo was alive, much less her daughter…

"Helena? Are you okay? Last time I talked to you…"

"Look outside." She said curtly.

I was befuddled. I went to the white curtains near the living room and opened them. Across from us was Ally Bohr's house. And right near my wife's car was a black Zexus, one of the most expensive cars in the world. Sure enough, a redhead woman stepped out of it and walked up to our door.

Helena Southerland was not her real name. It was actually Hilde Southsgard. From what I knew about her, she changed her name after a domestic dispute turned into full on spousal abuse, which led to a gruesome death at an amusement park on her daughter's birthday. Helena had inherited a ton of money from her grandparents and like me was a multiple business owner. But Helena owned, with my son's vernacular, _some pretty cool shit_. She owned two houses, had majority ownership in a casino in Las Vegas and even owned the Oured Metropolitan Museum of Art, the largest non-government museum in the nation.

To South Osea, Helena Southerland was a local celebrity. Her impending marriage to Lillian Izzo, a _quasi-national_ celebrity, was huge news. And it was no surprise that when Carile Southerland and Lillian went missing, everyone in Oured was in a state of confusion. An already unpopular war had begun to spill over into popular culture.

Things had become ugly in Oured. It was already bad enough with a war everyone doubted, but the double disappearance of their adored star's loved ones finally pushed it over the edge. And it wasn't just Helena. Hephaestus had taken their lumps in this struggle as well, but as the days went by I began to realize that H-Corp would be a lesser priority. The capital of Osea had been invaded by tons of extreme left wing protestors.

I opened the door before she reached it.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" I asked.

She took off her ugly bug-eyed sunglasses. They were the Gabane model, the premium brand. I could tell. Potenza -Cormorance's wife- as well as Dulcinea, Ally Bohr, and even Tasha wore them all the time.

"I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced, but…"

"No, it's okay." I said. I was actually happy to see her.

"I had to get out of Oured. It's just not safe anymore." she said apologetically.

I extended my palm and let her in. "I'd heard the news."

If one didn't know Helena Southerland, they'd never guess she didn't date men...and Helena was gorgeous. She wore a blood scarlet dress with ash colored lace stockings and ivory shoes with thick heels. Her purse was White Alligator skin. Her brown-amber eyes were to the ground, her steps slow and measured. Her straight red hair didn't move at all. Beneath those framed scientist glasses were those strange eyes; pupils that projected melancholy. She reminded me of an actress from a 1940's film noir.

She came in and sat down on our turquoise and white couch. Kei was anal retentive about that nice couch. No one could sit on it but guests, not even me. I looked at her impeccable outfit, and I forgot that it was nearly 7:30 in the morning.

"I got on a plane and I went to a friends' house in Onslaw. I borrowed her car and drove almost nonstop. Well, a few stops…gas and whatnot. Then I changed in a gas station bathroom. I had to be a little respectable." She said. A bitter laugh followed, "I should never have said that."

I was piqued. "Said what?"

"I was…invited on a radio show, and I said that is supported the war and now I'm getting death threats and my house got vandalized. The police are overwhelmed, it's a mess. I had to get out. I was going to rent out a hotel for a few days near St. Hewlett so I could check on Lillian and Carile but..."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's…"

Helena started sobbing uncontrollably. I walked up to her, to comfort her, put my arm around her…something. But she held up her hands to keep me away.

"I'm sorry…I…" I continued.

I walked over to her anyway and she started crying on my shoulder. It was a just a terrible, dreadful feeling. It was a helplessness I'd felt many more times than anyone should have. I handed her a tissue and started to dry her face.

"Look, it's okay. If there's anything I can do for you, just name it."

"No, I'll be fine." She said while drying her eyes, "Is your wife okay? Where is she?"

It seemed a strange question to ask. "Well, she's come down with something. She's sleeping now."

She said, her mood having changed a little, "Oh, sorry to hear that."

"Do you want something to drink? I got some water, coffee, tea…"

Helena came back with the bitter laugh again, "I guess hard tequila's out, so I'll take some tea."

She was right. One wouldn't know it, but Helena was quite the connoisseur of hard liquor. I saw her house once and one of her cabinets was chock filled with whiskey, scotch, among others.

I walked into the kitchen and by then I realized the door was open. I walked to close it and a black haired man walked in. He was a tall man in his forties but he looked younger than his age. He was definitely not an Osean, even though he talked like one. He was dressed in goofy blue pajamas with that silly cap on his head. The bathrobe he wore was navy blue and thick with wool and cotton. His slippers were wet from the dewy, dying grass.

It was Cormorance Alou. I walked up to him and when he spoke, I could tell that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet. Cormorance was a disciplined man, but he never woke up before twelve on a Tuesday. That was his off day. Something was going down.

"Hey, we gotta talk." He said. Then he looked a bit sheepish when he looked and saw our guest. "Wait...you're Ms. Southerland, aren't you?"

Helena got up to shake his hand, "And you must be Cormorance. Lillian talks about you a lot."

I would forget that Cormorance and Helena hardly saw each other. But Helena knew more about Cormorance than my Versuan neighbor knew about her for obvious reasons.

"Have they found her?" he asked. I didn't need to be told who.

"No. I had to get out of the city...it's just way..._way_ too dangerous there."

"Smart move. I was watching Max Lecorse's show this morning before I left."

Max Lecorse.

I hated that man. He was at the center of this new QCC controversy as well as the Democratic view of the war in general. Max Lecorse was a crazy person, but was one of the most popular people in Oured. He had a radio show that was also shown on TV. He had a controversial talk show as well. He was, next to Elizabeth D'Schubert and Martin Bolak, one of the biggest stars in Hollywood at the time.

"Cormorance, I can't believe you still watch that shit." I heard a voice say.

Kei staggered down the stairs in her pajamas trying to find out what the commotion was. As my wife got older, Kei developed a sort of…_bitch gene_ that triggered when she was sick. One time, she got mad at a five year old Brandon for asking a simple question while she was down with the flu and he cried for an hour. She wasn't like that in Versua…but actually after nearly three decades of living with my wife, I found her…irate temperament a bit amusing.

But now, I had guests and the last thing I needed was to see her like this. So I ran up to her and pushed her back up the stairs.

"Kei, would you _please_ go back to bed? I said I'd take care of everything!"

But before Kei could even fight me, "Oh, my god...Helena...what are you doing here?"

And, I kept pushing her up the stairs. "I'll explain later, just go back to bed honey...relax. Go watch a movie with Lucy when she wakes up."

"If she does wake up! She sleeps like a log." Kei said while fighting me. The whole thing was hilarious. Even the others were chuckling.

Luckily Kei weighed 120 pounds, so I picked her up and finally she stopped struggling. She kinda fell on the stairs, her butt hitting the bottom stair, so she climbed on my back and I picked her up and took her upstairs.

Cormorance was rolling on the ground, he'd been laughing so much. By the time I returned, Cormorance and Helena had recovered.

"I've never seen a sillier couple than you two whack jobs." Cormorance interjected, "Anyway, Lovecraft, Houston called...and we've got a problem. Rachel called my house. She's in the hospital down in Toreno, but she can't get a word to Micho."

It was bizarre change in mood. Unlike Dulcinea, Micho was already married to Rachel. This had some high implications. Rachel was a nice girl, but like my wife when she was ill, she did have a _bitch gene_. But overall, she was very likable. The wedding was awkward for us because we weren't expecting Micho to get married so young. Of course, there was the old saying about Versuan men: _a Versuan man would sleep with any woman, at any time, at any place._

"Is she okay?" I said.

"It's not looking too good. That kid's not waiting around anymore. She's in a lot of pain, buddy."

Helena reacted before I could. "They better get that kid out then. I went through the same thing with Carile."

I said, "You too? What is with us and premature births?! Jesus."

"Oh, and I got a letter from your son. Someone got mixed up and sent to _my_ house. It was sent by somebody _else_."

I looked at the letter and it said, **Brandon Lovecraft, hold for Ali Carson. **I had no idea who this Carson was, but it was probably someone in my son's company. I heard all kinds of scattered reports since the Queues were taken away from my kids. Most of my information came secondhand. When Tasha went missing and her company killed by whatever chemical weapon the enemy used, I knew that first hand. Now I had messages about Tasha being wounded in action and her friend was killed. Then there were some that said Carile was alive, some said they were dead.

I was used to it since misinformation and lack of information was common in every branch, even in my Wardog days.

I needed _concrete_ information, so I wouldn't respond to anything unless it was written or sent in electronic form from them.

My wife and I weren't exactly right-wing, but even we hated Max Lecorse. This convicted criminal, psycho, neo-liberal (a dumb term _he_ invented) made us embarrassed to be democrats. He'd spent days railing on the war and its stupidity.

We didn't necessarily disagree with him. He had good points, but he constantly poured gasoline on a fire that was already raging in Oured, Bana City, and November City, the Holy Triumvirate of the Democratic Party. Hollywood was also a fiercely liberal place, but Hollywood was its own district. The democrats had failed to win Hollywood when Shelley was elected and if you couldn't win Hollywood as a liberal, you were _incompetent_.

But Hollywood was a crazy place. My family found that out first hand years before. Chopper, Alvin C. Davenport, my friend long gone, had put Hollywood into perfect perspective in one simple sentence.

"Don't trust _anybody_ from Hollywood, man." He said.

Max Lecorse had helped turned Oured and Hollywood into political war zones.

Riots had been going all over the country for days and 40 people had been killed in so-called _protest wars_. Helena was right to get the hell out of her hometown. Every pundit, reporter, correspondent, lobbyist, politician, religious figure, poet, movie star, actor, business person, college student, high school student, drug addict and coffee cashier in our nation's capital were involved in some kind of protest or demonstration.

Some were peaceful, but a lot of them were just violent and hate driven. That's what disturbed me and Kei. Some were even rioting just to riot…and even racist groups were involved as they marched against blacks and especially Yukes. There was a terrible story about a Yuke couple who was gang raped by a hate group in North Oured.

Hollywood was actually two time zones ahead of us, and his show was on. Cormorance, who just didn't respect my house at all sometimes, turned on my television and changed to channel nine. A corny TV show theme came on and Max Lecorse's logo popped up -the goofy, lazily made graphic it was. There was a picture of his face…that ugly visage that smacked of three hundred face lifts and that fake black hair. When he spoke, he talked with the zeal of a slick car salesman.

"Hello, and welcome back to the Max Lecorse show in beautiful Hollywood on Hot 91 FM and we are also on your channel nine. I want to thank our supporters and producers at Prince of Bel-Air Studios. Now, if you're just joining us…we are in the middle of a heated discussion about the war in Yuktobania. We should not have invaded Yuktobania!"

Applause.

"Later on, we'll have Dr. Jim Darrell from the University of Oured. And now, we've come to my favorite part of the show. We're opening up the phone lines and you tell us what you hate about this war! You're the people who make the show work."

Applause. He should have added, _and I make the money so I can spend it on plastic surgery, hookers and cocaine._

"First caller, go ahead."

"Hello Max, my name is Shirley Leber of Akerson Hill. I love your show and I just want to ask you this. What do you think about the fact that our military are chock full of criminals?"

"Shirley, you bring up an excellent point. We're going to talk to Dr. Darrell about this later too, because this is a topic no one pays attention to. Shelley's Administration claims they've upgraded the military and yet our army is packed with criminals, dope heads and sexual deviants!"

More applause.

"My issue with this is not so much that there are these people in the military. It's actually inevitable when you have a job occupation of need instead of want. Now before I deliver my opinion, let me say that I do support the troops. I do not dislike them…but there is a myth going around. A myth is being perpetuated throughout our society about these men and women in question. Do you want to know what it is? Do you want to know what it is? Our government and the conservatives are making these flawed people…out to be heroes. And these people are not heroes."

Applause. I couldn't speak. I knew more stupidity would follow.

"I did some research on six soldiers who died yesterday in the line of duty. Their deaths were tragic. Their families have my condolences…but I must crack this apart. We _have_ to nip this myth in the bud before everyone is praising the wrong people. These people aren't heroes. All of them had prior convictions and were all forced into to service, and it's no surprise that all of them were Marines. These people aren't heroes because we've got the word hero confused. A hero is someone who is without or limited to his faults and they face evil and reject it and do it without asking for glamour."

Even more applause. I had to pause…maybe Max had a good point. He defined heroism exactly the way I would have defined it…almost. He lost me at the…_without faults_ part.

"Okay, let's pick one at random. There was a soldier who was killed yesterday. A woman named Xanthia King…"

My jaw hit the floor. There was this grainy picture of Xanthia King, whom I'd met once. She was pretty bright. Came from a horrible family history, but she wasn't a bad person. She made some stupid mistakes, but she wasn't a bad human being. There were several people in the picture…and one of them was my own daughter. Tasha was always right there next to her. I couldn't move, I trembled with anger because I knew what Max was going to say next.

"Killed by a malfunctioning crew served weapon in the rear, it was terrible freak accident…couldn't be prevented. And still…and STILL, the _Rutherford Post_, an _enlightening_ piece of journalism…"

A few chuckles from the audience.

"They're calling her a hero. This is a girl who was kicked out of two schools; one time was for having weapons on her person on school property claiming it was for self protection. Come on! Arrested for that and theft, had a kid at 16 or 17 by a guy doing ten years for drugs charges. She even admitted to using coke on several occasions before her boot camp training. It was even suspected she was on coke when she had her child! And her mother isn't any better. She was convicted herself of drug charges and got five years probation, her brother was killed in a drug dispute, another brother of King's had his child's mother convicted for life in a double homicide beef, her father, a once prominent DJ in Rutherford, was killed by a hooker after trying to recover money he thought was stolen…need I go on?"

Helena and I were seething at this point. Even Cormorance, who was almost never flustered, was angry.

"And what about the company she keeps? Her best friend was a woman named Tasha Black. And she's no angel either!"

_He was not about to go there_, I thought. He wasn't.

"She was suspended twice for instigating fights at her high school, cited for reckless driving twice in five years, and when she was in the military…she was disciplined six times for insubordination and curfew violations. She got into a physical confrontation with military police personnel at Zealus Island Naval Base just a month before the war. She has a long reputation of a lack of discipline and problems with authority."

"But this Tasha is an _angel_ compared to Charles Ellerbe and Jason Moore, both whom were convicted of trespassing and possession of drugs and alcohol. Both were nearly convicted of Level 3 sexual assault but the charges were dropped, and it later discovered that the entire trial was fixed and all the lawyers and judges involved have been disbarred. It was rumored that a cover up was involved…this is ridiculous! Neither King nor any of her friends can even be close to be considered heroes! The old saying is true. You lie down with dogs and you're gonna get fleas."

A mass of applause. I couldn't even react. Inside, I was a boiling pot of water, threatening to spill over and scald anything. Helena's face twisted, as if she'd eaten rotten squid.

"If you're a convicted thief and confessed drug addict with a kid as a write off for social services and you can't even finish school because you're bringing weapons….and your friends are bad human beings and immature people and STILL be a hero…then what does the word _hero_ even mean?! Where does it end?"

I almost threw a chair at my TV.

It was painfully obvious that Max's diatribe about the late Xanthia King was racially motivated. It was no question. There wasn't a _single_ black person in the audience. The audience was filled with white upper middle class people. You could find a black person in my town in three minutes.

The reasons he listed for Tasha may have been valid things, true she did have a problem with authority…but it wasn't as bad as made it out to be. But was that a reason to invalidate everything she did? It seemed awfully convenient he left out the five years between now and then.

Lecorse went on about his denunciation of the soldiers who'd been killed. Funny, none of them were white. Every race foreign to the host was discussed: Versuan, Yuke, Sotoan, Belkan…

There was a separate class of left wingers: xenoliberals.

Xenoliberals were the biggest hypocrites in the world and we all knew the type. They were always the upper middle class snob with two degrees in useless things and hung around people in fuzzy sweaters…they were always college loiterers. They always drove hybrid cars and preached diversity…until it happened to them. When a foreign family moved next door, it was suddenly _uncomfortable_. They carried their babies in these stupid slings, that way their hands were free to yak away on cell phones and network without even touching their child.

Kei would have never used one of those things. Kei thought it was _a retarded idea_. Kei relentlessly ridiculed them as parents who let nannies raise their kids so they can pursue corporate jobs yet preach about how the man was holding them down.

Cormorance hated them for his own reason: they were people who wanted to save the planet, but they really wanted a safe place to live and play golf. And I thought the White Crow from 2016 had a deluded way of thinking. At least they didn't hide under the guise of liberal politics.

How does one respond to such stupidity?

_What if my daughter heard that?_

_What if Xanthia's mother heard that?_

"How could he say that?! The nerve of that man." Helena shouted.

But Cormorance did not respond the way I thought he would. He had his hand on his chin. "A cruel way to say things, but he does make a good one."

Helena snapped to, as if someone had surprised her in an alleyway, "What do you mean?!"

"Look, what happened to that girl was tragic...but he did have one thing right. We are making the wrong heroes out of certain people."

To be fair, Cormorance didn't know anything about Xanthia King. And Cormorance's statement was actually an intelligent point. At least the Versuan was consistent on it. Alou was not a man who valued heroism as much as duty. He was a ruthless pilot back in the day and cared nothing about the Versuan civilians…even though he himself was the same race. He only cared about his fellow pilots and his family. That was it.

Helena's reaction was sharp and surprising. She slapped him across the face and I moved to hold her back, but she didn't move. Cormorance backed away, shocked.

"You bastard!" she spat, "You're just like all the others trying to tear down heroes!"

"What was that for? I didn't mean her! I was just saying..."

I kept Helena away from him, "Cormorance...please. Just go. She's under a lot of stress right now. Let me worry about the heroes all right?"

Cormorance straightened out his hair and walked over to the still furious Southerland. "Look, I'm sorry. That was out of line...I should have said it better but..."

But an angry snarl from the Yuke woman and Cormorance realized it was time to bail.

"I'm going. I'm sorry." _I can't believe I said that_, he said. Cormorance left in a hurry, as much as a guy in slippers could.

Helena walked over to the couch and sat down. She breathed heavily and started to cry again. I took a gander at my son's letter and got the near surprise of a lifetime.

***

_**Dear Mom and Dad, **_

_**I don't know if this will reach you. I sent this through an intermediary of sorts. The reason I'm sending this to you now is because I don't trust anyone else to do it. Well, almost. This guy, this Ali Carson, was wounded and I gave the letter to him to Queue to you. First, I have to tell you this. Dulcinea's pregnant. I know…you're ticked at me, but I hadn't seen her in months and one thing led to another…now I'm going to be a dad. It's kinda weird, but I'm kinda looking forward to it. Dulcinea's coming home so at least she'll be safe.**_

_**Things aren't really looking too good. Everywhere I go it seems the world's about to cave in on us…mostly me. I tried to save this Jaair civilian and I failed to do it. She died because I wasn't quick enough. I sullied about it…well, that's not the right word. But everyone's turning on me. They, even my own superiors…they seem to think that my heroism is a joke.**_

_**They think I'm a joke. One big fat joke.**_

_**Most of them anyway, and it's no surprise who supports me. Of course, they think guys like Alphonso are a big joke as well. I don't know if it was the stress of if they all believed it. We were looking for missing Marines though. We did find Carile however! So, that 'sat least some comfort. I'll probably get in trouble for saying that, but I don't care.**_

_**How can I, when everyone sees me as a punch line for wanting to be the hero? I just want this war to be over.**_

_**Love you,**_

_**Brandon**_

I left Helena alone for about ten minutes. I went upstairs and looked in Brandon's old room. It was mostly bare. I wasn't sad when he left home. I knew his Marine career was his destiny…his self-made destiny. There was no better thing than a decision about one's own fate.

There were the old poster markings he had. He'd taped up all the pictures from _The Raven Bauer Project_ calendars I bought him just for kicks. And naturally, all of the pictures were of the sexy characters from the show. Teenage boys.

There was one thing to consider about Brandon and myself. We were the only males in the house. It was no surprise that my wife and my daughters didn't understand why we roughhoused all the time. We did it because we were guys; irrelevant of the soft-spoken, honorable ways we tried to live our lives. It wasn't _always_ like that, however.

When my son was six, he and Tasha were in lock step. They did everything together. And back then, Tasha was a shy girl and Brandon was an aggressive kid. He overprotective of Tasha and whenever she was threatened, he wasn't afraid of making his presence known. It was ironic, Tasha and Brandon almost never fought with each other over toys or anything…but they were perfectly willing to fight anyone else at any opportunity.

Kei came up with the idea of separating them in first grade. The separation was an immense burden on Brandon. My son became bitter, withdrawn…just as Tasha was at times.

His sister was affected in the opposite direction. She didn't have the intense, lonely feelings her brother had. However, for days, we couldn't figure out why Brandon was so miserable at school.

We realized the problem was that he'd defined herself through Tasha because she loved her so much. Not to mention all those stories we read him as a four and five year old about the knights of old.

He asked me what a knight was and I went off onto the tangent of what a real man was: someone who treats girls and women with respect, someone who protects them and never disrespects authority.

I should have worded it better. I'd unintentionally heaped little _too_ much responsibility on my son at _six years old_, when he could barely make a decision on what kind of ice cream he liked, or learn math and spelling, much less try to learn how to get along with other kids.

But what amazed us was how he struggled through it. He toughed it out, even after I talked to him and modified my original statements. I told him that he didn't have to be so tied to his sister, but she could still be a _part_ of him. I encouraged him to go out and get into trouble.

Speaking of trouble…that advice was often rued by my wife. In nineteen years of life, Brandon's laundry list of disastrous stunts included the following:

Going down the stairs in the laundry hamper at nine years old.

Trying to grab the ceiling fan at seven years old.

Jumping ramps with a skateboard at ten years old.

Jumping a ramp with an ATV at seventeen.

Talking Kei into riding the world scariest rollercoaster, _The Mind's Eye_ in November City, with him at thirteen.

Swimming across the Osuba River and its deadly current at sixteen.

Jumping off our roof into the deep end of our pool and Micho videotaping it on the last day of high school.

_Car surfing_ with Tasha at seventeen, with Micho videotaping it.

Trying to race a freight train, (though it was mostly _my_ idea), with Micho videotaping it.

Brandon talking me into cliff diving…with Micho videotaping it.

Getting punched by a football player and throwing him into the windshield of his own car.

Thinking back on it, it was a miracle my son didn't get killed. With that aside, I wanted him to make friends and live his life, but family could always be a part of his life.

Brandon did was what he always did: he took what we told him and modified it to suit his life. He never fully changed what he believed in…he only tweaked it with every little life lesson. He saw it as his duty to protect us because I'd told him that someday he might be the man of the house.

Tasha and Brandon were both leaving us several months ago. Lillian had bought a nice house in Phoenix Hill, that nice community on the edge of South Oured. She always let her friends stay at her place if traveling from out of town. At the time, Helena had just come into Izzo's life. Both of our kids were going to be away for several months, Tasha to Infantry School and Brandon to Power Recon School.

Anyway, a day before they left, we were all together in the house. It was the afternoon and my twin soldiers were preparing to leave. Their goal was to catch a red eye flight from Anchorage to Bana City, then Bana City to Oured and arrive in the morning.

It was one of those icy cold stares. Brandon was slightly shorter than me, but all those weeks of intense physical training and emotional tolls had turned him into a specimen of raw muscle fibers.

He pointed right at me and said, "It's time."

I knew exactly what he meant, "You ready for this?"

Then my wife saw our grins and our aggressive stances, put two and two together and said, "No…no…NO! You two are _not_ grappling in my living room!"

To which Brandon said, "Fine then. Backyard. Me and you. Come on, old man! Let's do this!"

We started popping off our shirts and it was then…I realized…I may…have made a tactical error challenging my son to a friendly wrestling match. My son was shaped like a damn statue. I had all kinds of tiny fat pockets on me. I didn't work out as much post-air force career. I was _sort o_f in shape; at least, that was what Kei told me. When I saw Brandon's six-pack, however, I knew Kei had been lying. I wasn't in my son's league at _all_. Hell, Tasha looked more chiseled than I did and she still had her femininity.

I got my ass kicked. No, that didn't do it justice. Brandon ripped my ass off and _handed_ to me. He won't admit it…but he let me have the first blow when I tackled him off the deck. He body slammed me into a lawn chair, then he _hit_ me with said lawn chair, and then we crashed into the barbecue grill. Brandon threw me into the pool like a ragdoll and for the coup de grace…he jumped in and elbowed me in the head.

My back was sore, we were soaking wet and I had a knot on the corner of my head. But after it was over, we laughed it off. He picked me up out of the water and gave me this big bear hug.

"I love you, old man." He said.

"I love you too, kid."

That was us. Kei…sort of understood.

"You two are such cavemen sometimes!" she said. She looked angry, but she couldn't fool me. I saw her mouth movement. She used every one of her self-control not to laugh.

Tasha and Astrid…they just didn't get it at _all_.

"You two are idiots!" Tasha said.

"Well, you watch that _kawaii_ anime and embarrass karaoke singers all the time. What's the difference?" Brandon replied.

Then Tasha ran to tackle her brother into the pool, forgetting one critical fact. Brandon's days at boot camp had made him quite strong…and nimble. Tasha flew headfirst into the pool and we were all doubled over on the ground laughing.

I never worried about Brandon. The important thing about that memory...I proved to Kei that my view on my son was correct. Brandon never gave up, even if his outward appearance was totally different. However, back then…there was no war. And to think, this was just months before my children were on hostile soil. Things changed when that bomb went off in Ocktabursk.

_So_ many things changed. I knew the truth about my son's dream. It wasn't always through Sueltana or Kei or even me.

He did it himself. He'd done it all his life and he did it with and without praise.

Heroism was doing what few else would do if they had a choice. That choice was to do the right thing, even if you were hated. When you made the choice, you were a target. People would turn on the hero because he was polarizing by paradigm. They were always judged by the amount of enemies you had. The more enemies the hero had…the better. Heroism was like a tightrope.

There were times in his life where he did things that many people didn't like because they were the right thing. I knew of some of my son's antics in Recon School. He was laser focused on making it through. He was still young. I expected him to fail sometimes. But I knew the walls were closing in on him. I knew it. It knew that because I knew the men that my son served with; boys of dubious, selfish, and obnoxious character…even Micho, who married so young.

His father, Cormorance, was a mission first ace pilot. He didn't talk about his wife or his kids much. He strictly believed in war's harsh, black and white world. He wasn't a man who fought for a higher cause outside of his family. He had no empathy towards the enemy, no desire to understand the people he fought against. To Cormorance Alou, the enemy was a series of numbers and faceless statistics. He believed Yuktobania brought their struggles on themselves and deserved no mercy.

Everyone disliked heroes because they created fame, and in an age of celebrity overexposure, social networking, and other technology, the general public was bombarded with news about people they could never be. That led to jealousy. In my world of the past, it wasn't as bad. It was encouraged.

Helena was angry because anti-war people were trying to _tear down heroes_, as she said. Cormorance Alou was one of them, but he did it because he didn't believe that heroism was the correct approach in war. He and I obviously had different meanings for that word.

I often felt it was hypocritical of him. Polly Elbe could die to save us from a giant flying ship, but my son couldn't die for someone else other his comrades, even his own sister?

There was yet another problem with this issue. My children's generation knew nothing of war, only little at best. A war was an abstract idea. This war in Yuktobania, I finally realized, was the _worst_ thing that could happen to Osea. The difference between the fifteen years between the Belkan War and the Circum Pacific War and the almost twenty years between the Versuan War and this age was the culture change in each time. The first gap was a major political change from conservative to liberal parties. The second was a major political _and_ societal change. Military _and_ culture had changed. Everyone was on camera all the time, they were experimenting with new lifestyles, diversity was never higher, and the economy boomed.

The burden of war fell onto the kids of this wild, political and cultural upheaval. They were already struggling to figure out who they were…and they were overexposed, techo-savvy, lazy, immature…and dangerously unprepared emotionally. Before, it took a month to get the army into Yuktobania, and that was weeks after a war was declared. My son's division was on the ground in that hostile country after a declaration of war in _three days_.

What was really going on over there? There was only a finite amount I could do as a parent. I knew they had saved Carile, but Lillian was still missing.

I did know one thing. What his squad mates were feeling was inexcusable. The honorable solder's first duty was to fight for his country. But its second was to protect those who were not soldiers, the people who were tried to scrape out a living, even though a war tore apart their country. That extended to everyone, even the enemy. If _I_ wasn't allowed to feel that, then the Dresdene disaster in 2010 would have meant nothing.

But this baby by Dulcinea…he or she changed the way he thought about what he wanted to do. I wasn't angry, nor was I surprised. Kei, once she found out, would be a different story. Brandon _was_ a responsible kid; he made no bones about it. I would have been much more worried about Tasha. Besides, Brandon all but half-raised Astrid with Kei because Tasha was always pouting her jealousy at the new baby. Of course, that probably began her downward spiral into self-esteem issues.

I always had a feeling Dulcinea was the perfect girl for him. Sure she made a few mistakes, but then again, I did dumb things at nineteen too. But Rico, my god…some of the mere allegations…

Accused of rape, lawyers fixing juries…it was like a bad legal movie come to life. If we'd found out about this earlier…

Dulcinea, however, was not Rico Lazarus.

But that aside, my son needed help. As a father, it was my job to help my kids in any way I could.

We were fighting an enemy that hadn't changed its culture in a thousand years. Osean society had rapidly changed and concurrent societal change and war was a bad mix. Brandon was caught between survival, the woman he loved, and the soldier he truly wanted to be. Something had to give.

And as much as I hated to admit it as a parent, sometimes it came down to sheer pragmatism. But would it be? It was something for which there were no easy answers. However, life rarely got answers for anything. It was hard to pick a lane. My mother told me that life was _a complex affair_.

However, the child was one person that'll never judge him for wanting to be a hero. And who knew…

Maybe my grandchild would grow up to be like their father. They'd always think of him as such. And Dulcinea would as well. She considered him a hero. Called him a hero to his face…told him she'd always be his hero.

And Helena Southerland…and Helena Sorenson….

And Carile Southerland…

And Lillian Izzo…

And us…me and Kei, Astrid, Tasha…even Lucy. Lucy drew several pictures of Brandon. She didn't forget either.

Brandon's problem was that he'd forgotten the ultimate lesson of heroism…to do it without praise.

Brandon would never have to call himself a hero. The people who believed in him would do it for him. He'd be hated by his comrades…but what did they matter in the grand scheme of his beliefs anyway? They only had to keep my son alive and Brandon had to keep them alive. That was all he owed them. He owed his comrades nothing but loyalty and respect.

Chopper and Grimm, Swordsman, Kei…Lillian to some degree, and even Paulo and Sasha Masson…

They were the ones I owed my undying faith in exchange for _their_ undying faith…because they all shared my belief. See to them, I was their hero. And to me, that was all that mattered.

I went into the kitchen and told Helena that they'd found Carile. She was overjoyed. She started crying out of sheer joy. She was on the ground thanking God for everything. I picked her up and hugged her and she was still unable to hold herself together. Finally, I knew what I had to do. My son had to know who to fight for. It'd be easier if he had a clear picture...and Helena might be able to help me.

"Helena." I said.

"Yeah?"

"You said that you were tired to everyone trying to tear down the heroes of the world, right?"

"Correct."

I smiled at her. "Let's build a few up."

Next Chapter: The Baptism by Fire


	20. The Baptism By Fire

Chapter 20: The Baptism by Fire

**Brandon**

**September 8, 2037**

**Arasi Sands, North of Dajul **

**2200 hrs**

There was an old woman playing a violin.

She acted as if we weren't there.

We were in the Arasi Sands, another white sand area…a plain just outside the city we'd tearassed through only hours earlier. Now we were in an almost abandoned town. The Dogmen of Saint Peter had long since fled. The only civilians in the town were this old woman and a pair of seven or eight year old kids who slumbered inside their little hut.

She strummed the strings and the woman filled the air with her beautiful music. And yet, I was probably the one who seemed to care.

I didn't want to sit near anyone else. They didn't understand at all. To them, I was some prima donna hero wannabe. They saw me as an over-privileged sort who got to spend extra days in the rear because of this stupid virus affecting me or the fact that Dulcinea was conveniently in Bethlehem Park. That and the fact that she was pregnant as a result…sort of. Then I thought, perhaps it was because I got the chance to _sleep_ where as no one else had slept in nearly forty hours. But that couldn't be since Eric had the same chance as me to sleep, but no one banged on him for any of his dreams.

Most of these guys had no business ripping me for being angry over a mistake I made.

It took me a few hours after I sent that letter to pops to realize it.

Truth be told, they had _earned_ the right to be in Power Recon. That fact was inarguable. But the truth was this: most of these guys were forced in because they had nowhere else to go. People like Cameron, who surprised me with his vitriol, shouldn't have said anything.

Cameron admitted the _real_ reason why he was in the corps. He only wanted girls, girls and more girls. However pretty Bree Hansen was, it was never enough for our Hollywood boy. The way I saw him and his girlfriend, Bree was really a relationship of convenience. He never had a desire to get married anyway. In fact, he was considering pulling a _commitment ceremony_ with Bree. It wouldn't be technically a marriage, but a commitment. It was the most ridiculous, dumbest smart I'd ever heard about. What woman in their right mind in a relationship would consent to that? Any woman dumb enough to do that needed to be sterilized. _Commitment ceremony!_

Of course, Bree Hansen _was_ stupid enough to fall for that one.

Cameron and Eric were guys who just wanted sleep with anyone they wanted. Bree would get worked because she slept around too and didn't care if Cameron did.

_It sure has the workings of good relationship_, Alphonso said once, _if you're good at throwing lamps at each other._

Cameron Craft was one of the biggest phonies of the entire company.

Sergeant Teller was another. Hoot had joined by choice. He loved guns and war. But here was a guy who always told everyone he led into combat to believe in whatever they held true.

_Ya'll just hold on to whatever makes you. You'll get home alive._

He said those words in Recon Training in the last week, just before the _30 Mile Crucible_; our last test. Hypocrisy was just a side product of war. We were all guilty of it in some form or fashion. I cheated my way through Recon School. Everyone did to some degree. You had to. The competition was that fierce._ If you weren't cheating, you weren't trying_, as per Hoot's so-called complex philosophy on life. But I couldn't believe him anymore.

But was I being petty about it? Was I overanalyzing the situation?

Weren't the others allowed to believe whatever they wanted?

Maybe I'd pushed it onto them. Maybe they got tired of it.

Our Division was one of a strange marriage between the words elite and Special Forces. We straddled that line all the time. It was no wonder few knew what to make of Power Recon. There were less than 8,000 of us, and we were on the front lines.

At the beginning of this sordid tale, we thought we were only going to be on the defensive. We should have known better. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I should have seen it coming. We were in the middle of a dying country, and in the middle of that, we were stuck in a desert with suits that burned us inside and out. Oh, sure…those nano-plates we had were designed to keep us in fighting comfort, but I felt like the inside of a pizza oven as we continued to prowl the Jilachi Desert.

Operation Mulholland had wrapped up rather poorly. We did find and rescue Carile Southerland, but she was the only survivor. The Marines who'd been captured had either been killed or, like the Dogmen of Saint Peter, vanished into the mirage of the burning sand when we arrived.

I sat there and listened to the old woman play her music. As I did, Walt walked up to my fighting hole. I wasn't sure what to make of Walter Snow. Walter straddled the line between phony and honest man. He never hesitated to tell the world what he was and yet at the same time, he'd never feel any fault for what he did. It made a strange sense in a way, but it seemed a bit biased from my viewpoint. After all, I'd known Walt since elementary school.

And typical Walt, he just couldn't enjoy anything without making fun of it.

"What the hell is a woman playing a violin this time of night for, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Sure she's not an insurgent masking as the scrub player in an orchestra?"

"You just have an insult ready for everyone Walt."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, you douchebag hero wannabe."

I ignored Walt for the time being. He then sat on the edge of my fighting hole and stared right at the old lady.

"What's she playing? Bach or something?"

"No…and frankly, I'm surprised you even knew who Bach was."

"Shut up. What about Beethoven? Mozart?"

"No, no…and no."

"Then what the hell is she playing, dumbass… or should I say _master of strings_?"

I slapped Walt upside his helmet. "She's playing Tchaikovsky."

Forgetting my assault on his cranium, he laughed, "You remember back in first grade when we went to that stupid play about the toy soldiers?"

"Yeah, _he_ wrote the music for that _stupid_ play. Of course, I'm surprised you even remembered it at all…considering you got kicked out for throwing things at my sister."

Walt laughed again, "Yeah. Those were good times."

There was a candid part of me that didn't really want to stand there and listen to Walt go on and on about our elementary school days. Walt hadn't changed since 1st grade in some aspects. The woman's music drew me to her and away from unenlightened, sub-human morons like Walter Snow.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his arms out-folded.

I didn't answer him. I casually walked over to the woman, not caring at all who questioned my action. The woman's face had many minuscule canyons, as far as I could tell in the near darkness. There were no lights in the camp, but there were some lights the civilians in the town had left on. Most of them were ignored, even for simple combat discipline. We moved at a torrid pace through the desert.

"Hmm…come to hear the serenade of a lonely old woman…well, not really lonely, but…you understand, no?"

"I was going to say that you had the kids."

"Eh…they're not mine. Their parents hightailed from this city months ago. Didn't even tell their kids. Of course, I wasn't surprised. Their father was always on drugs or something."

"So you're the only ones who've live here?"

"It's been that way for months. We've been very lucky. The kids enjoy life even more. They don't have to worry about foolish adults. They play around the town…acting as the mayor and his wife. It's rather enjoyable to watch them delude themselves."

"The best part of being a kid."

She continued to play, and I took stock of her words. I pulled out a pair of Yuke notes, totaling about two hundred Osean dollars and dropped them into the open violin case.

"Why are you giving this bitch money? She's the reason this war's going on!" Walt asked me.

"What are you talking about?" I replied.

"I mean, part of it."

"Where did you get _that_ idea?" I asked. Walt pointed right at the old woman…but she didn't even seem to care.

"I mean, look at her. She's sitting on her ass fiddling away. No one cares about what happens. That's why this country's so screwed up."

"She's an old woman for God's sake!"

"Are you sure she's not hiding any weapons in that case?"

"Walt. Stop it. You're acting like Rico."

"Whatever happened to him anyway?"

"Don't care."

Walt walked away and the old woman scoffed.

"Damn, I wish this war was over."

"Because of boys like him, I would presume?" the old woman said.

"No. Not really." I said.

"Yes. Of course because of boys like him you'd leave."

"I'm just sick of this. Sick of having everything you believe in trampled by people who didn't have a choice but to join…and be here. And yet, all I want to keep being the perfect soldier."

"You sound like a man I knew many years ago."

"Really?"

"You look kind of like him…a pilot. Very tall, strong…not as strong as you though. He went on and on about how only his closest comrades understood him."

"Sounds like me." I said.

It was an obvious lie. She went on and rambled about how much _he_ looked like me. I wasn't that surprised after the fact. In 2010, I knew my father had set up here with the squadron and the rest of the Air Wing at a temporary base to run Deny Flight operations against the enemy in the Jilachi Desert. I wondered if fate brought me to this spot.

"By the time he arrived here, your people had dominated the desert and all but driven out my countrymen. I could see the wear in his eyes. The toll war had taken on him. I still played my violin, and he threw Yuktobanian cash into my violin case."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He told me about a conflict he had within himself. He had longed to fulfill his dream, but at the same time the struggle had wore him down. He was a man who believed the war made no sense. He thought he understood war…but once he fought, everything he believed in was pushed aside. His superiors were strangely resentful of him, and he and his friends were hated by just as many people who loved them."

"What did you say to him?"

"I asked him what his dream was. He said he wanted to be a hero of the sky. So, I told him to take it and keep flying. Endurance is the greatest sign of any hero."

"_He_ had it easy. I have to sleep in a hole in the ground and get shot at every day. I eat crappy food and semi-decent water. I had to go 46 hours without sleeping once. That man…he only had to fly. He had his own bed to sleep in, and the woman he loved flew alongside him."

"Uh…ah…so the man's still alive, eh?"

"Yeah. I'm one of the few who know him. He's got a wife and three kids now."

"Ah, I see. Full circle after 27 years."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about but…"

"You know." She said, "What is your dream, young man? Is it the same as the demon hero's?"

"I wanted to be the best soldier in the Corps. I wanted to come over here and help you people. I have a sister who's trapped over here as well. I want people to think that Osea has more than materialistic jerks. I wanted to save people, to make the children wave and smile at me…and to know that what I did had a purpose."

"To be a hero is a very sad dream, but one nonetheless."

"The Soma's troops have beliefs of their own…and there are more of them than me. And most of those guys back there," I said, pointing to the camp, "They only want to fire their guns or destroy buildings just for kicks. That's all _they_ care about. Most of them joined just to be called elite, or have a chance to sleep with tons of whores on overseas travel."

The woman paused before she spoke. "Then endure. Men like your friend will hate you…but you must. Then you can live or die as man who's respected. In your case, your dream is as bitter as a nightshade."

"I don't want to die…but I may have to if my time comes."

"Then consider yourself fortunate. That boy who was next to you before, he is a callous sort, isn't he?"

"Yeah. I have to live with him here and in my town."

"He will not be alive to see the end of this war."

If I had drunk something then, I'd have spit it out in shock. "What?"

"I've seen many soldiers like him. He carries a deep hate within him, a loathing of the world. He lives without any feeling at all."

"Hey, we got a briefing. Let's go. Stop talking to grandma and get your ass over here!" Walt shouted at me.

She said this as I walked away, "People always die as they live."

I didn't have time to ponder the words…yet.

***

**2210 hrs**

"…_okay, guys. We got problems. A Navy SEAL team is pinned down in this village called Scirre and we're shotgun to bail 'em out. SEAL Team Eight located a few of the missing Marines when they parachuted in for a recon mission. They're taking heavy fire. We're heading up MSR Mickey and we're splitting off here, at MSR Dolores. Let's go!"_

We entered the outer areas of the Madis sands, just south of Scirre. We had no air support; a massive sandstorm had grounded everything to the south. We had a T-LARA with us, the transportation model, to escort the SEALs out of the city. And it was there that Walter's bad side came out yet again.

As much as I hated to admit it, Walter Snow was actually pretty smart at times. However, his attitude invalidated that many a time. He had a caustic, cynical view of the world. He never swayed from his opinion, however flawed it was. It seemed strange, but unlike some people in the company, he was actually who he said he was. However, there were times when I thought Walt didn't know who he really was.

Walter Snow was a pain in the ass. He was always like this, and I wasn't surprised one bit. He was on his best behavior for awhile, but my personal issue had given him a license to _act a fool_, as he would say. But for awhile, Walt was just a jackass. He was an asshole when we were growing up in Pikes Hugo, he was an even bigger asshole in high school, and nothing had changed since. He had some military discipline in him, but he was still a jerk. Since he'd joined the Marines, he'd only learned who he could be an asshole to and get away with it.

His father had died, his mother was gone, and he only had his brother and sister…and he didn't respect them at all.

Walt was in the Corps because apparently his sister had told someone in authority at our high school, St. Mary Anna's, that Walt had been taking things from other people's lockers…which _was_ true.

But apparently, Walt got it into his crazy head that Juanita had told on him…which was _not_ true.

She was in ninth grade at the time. Seniors and freshman almost never interacted and it was not because of some social separation of age and clique. It was because of the school's architectural arrangement. All the seniors had classes on the extreme northwest end of school, the closet to the parking lots and the football field. The freshmen had all their classes to the extreme southeast, close to the art pavilion and the school entrance. The school was larger than most people thought. There were 890 students at the combined District school between the major towns and cities in my hometown's region. Only Anchorage was larger.

Walt was called into the office and was apparently close to being suspended for the rest of the school year. Soon after, word down that he was gone for some time. It was near the end of the day.

I witnessed it firsthand. I was wandering the halls. Micho was in Physics Lab. Then, _it_ happened.

Walt approached his sister in an empty classroom and started yelling at her. It was the unused room on the southern edge. Juanita had no idea what Walter was yelling about. I ran in and tried to separate the two as Walt picked things up. I couldn't stop him. He slung me off and punched his sister in the face, and then called her that ugly, vulgar term for the female anatomy in between the f-bombs.

Walter hit her in the head with a chair. He hit her so hard that she bled from her left ear. He also took it to her kneecap, but she had her left hand there and the impact broke her fingers.

Walt was a big guy. Walt going to town on poor Juanita was equal to me beating the crap out of Astrid, or a giant Belkan Wolf Spider up against a mouse.

Finally, I managed to cut in and clip Walt before he killed his own sister. I _seriously_ thought if I hadn't intervened…Walt would have killed her.

By then the school resource officer showed up. Then he started fighting with the cop. Walt got maced _and_ tasered. And it was this same guy who was guarding our right sector as we rushed into the darkness of the Jilachi.

"Hey Walt, whatever happened to your sister?" Wash asked.

"She's in some ridiculous town called…Parsippany or something. I could care less where that bitch went."

"That's very compassionate of you." Alphonso said, a deadly sharp sarcasm in his voice.

Alphonso then said something in Sapinian that I knew had to be a curse or something. It was hard to hear, but I swore that Walt returned the verbal favor with a barely audible expletive. However, MacGruber's response was indicative of his awareness of the situation.

"Private, do you not care about anything?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I've only been here for a few days and you've done nothing but act as if the world means nothing to you."

"Not true, sir. Nothing other than surviving. That's all that matters to me."

That was a lie, it seemed. If Walt cared about survival, then he had a serious hot and cold desire of his own mortality. It was certainly news to me.

"Well, it's something." MacGruber finally replied.

"Unlike our friend Brandon here who thinks he can survive while doing his best superhero impersonation."

"And that…like I said, it's something."

At least MacGruber had my back; though it was the first time that I'd heard him comment on the issue. Our lives had become such the blurred images of race cars flying pass the grandstands. We were on one mission after another it seemed. Operation Mulholland had not quite wrapped up.

"Whatever." Walt said. A shrug of the shoulders followed.

MSR Mickey was a long dirt road to the extreme west of our position. The enemy had a salient across the road, but air and arty had knocked it out in the Soma's pathetic counterattack. Before, most of us would have been extremely worried. As we crossed onto the midsection of the MSR, there's wasn't a lot of complaining this time around. The flurry of missions had sent many of us into a zone of indifference. MSR Dolores was just ahead of us.

"Juliet One to Two Alpha. We're coming up on the turn now." MacGruber said.

We turned onto the road.

From the maps, Scirre was no village. It was a town and a large one at that. We didn't have the time to properly consult the maps. It was G1 who sent us the orders after all. There was a Special Forces team in peril and there was no cause for hesitation. Cameron had gotten on the radio and remarked about how hard it was to find the road. His driving privileges had been restored out of necessity. We were a little reduced in the manpower department. There was Janson, Jenks with a bad case of nausea and vomiting, and Chambers was down for the count after a negligent discharge…as much as one could be from an enemy weapon he picked up.

The night above had opened its doors to a million tiny lights as the emerald sights of our NVGs gave it an almost perfect backdrop. Alphonso was singing a tune, a familiar tune: _Lae Miertel de Gubilae_, a famous children's song sung in many countries. When Tasha and I were babies, my mother had sung it to us every night.

There was a flash up ahead. It was hundreds of meters away. I didn't pay it much attention.

Chapman chewed some gum, but he always smacked it loud enough that we could pass a freight train and still hear his chews. He adjusted the rifle a bit as he kept it trained on his sector. In the turret, Eric Martin was too busy scanning the horizon for any threats. Wash and Abernathy were in the back and they sung some rap song.

"…I got a .45 that I call Mr. Pain and a .357 that I call Insane…"

After they finished, I realized it seemed a strange way to pass time in this instance. We headed into a town with no air support, no armor, and little intel about the place. And there we were, singing children's lullabies and rap songs about naming weapons. And just as Alphonso finished his song…

"What the hell are you singing about?"

Walt almost never asked questions for knowledge; he just used questions to pester and belittle. Typical Walt. The song that Wash and Abernathy rapped about was done by a group Walt hated, but he had no idea what the heck _Lae Miertel de Gubilae _meant. It meant _Dream of the Earth_.

What amazed me was how eerily quiet the battlefield was. To my left, the only thing I could see was the endless debris of war. We were moving about 45 to 50 kph, and we could only see glimpses. This was the war my sister saw. She saw the results of our killing power. That was one of the reasons why the frontline Marine riflemen hated the so-called POGs. They were always in awe of what we could do and they were our brothers in arms. As such, they tried to bogart our firefights and combat actions. I didn't see the muzzle flashes, but everyone to my right did. Insurgents opened up on us.

"Werewolf Juliet, Werewolf Lima, small arms fire to our three!" Morrison called on the radio.

"Roger." MacGruber said.

"What are they shooting at?" Chapman said.

There was no contact on the left. Combat discipline stated that in a vehicle you only paid attention to your assigned sector. The reason was pretty obvious. You missed a target because you were looking at your buddies light up some enemies, you could get shot. I remembered Micho made that mistake and the instructors never let him forget it. He had to do everything to the left, eat with his left hand, write with his left hand, and only look to the left…

The problem was that no one in our Victor knew what the hell everyone was shooting at. We were passing a small hamlet on the outskirts of Scirre. Then, people on the left opened up too. The problem was, I couldn't see any targets at all. There were a series of explosions that erupted around the buildings. I only hoped the people kept their heads down.

"I have no targets." Abernathy said.

"I got nothing on my nine." I said.

Just as I said that, Eric the Red, in the turret above, fired his Harpoon gun. I couldn't tell what direction he was firing in at first. I couldn't see any targets.

"I have no targets." Adrian repeated.

"Eric! What are you shooting at?" Alphonso asked.

"I got muzzle flashes to my three!" he responded.

"Hold on, man! That's a village, watch it!" MacGruber shouted at Martin.

We cleared the kill zone and moved up ahead past the small hamlet. Scirre came into full view. The entire town was bright and my eyes burned, as if I was a drunk walking out into the neon lights of Vegas for the first time. I almost had to take off my NVG sight. It was impossible to make out the town's features traveling down a dark road at over 50 kph, in the middle of the night, _and_ while under fire. However, there was a heavy blanket in the air. I thought the city was on fire at first, and as such, maybe it was smoke that came from the city. The blanket was hard to make out, but there was something strange. It moved quick and right past the city. It seemed light in places. But what else could it be? Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed this.

"What the hell is that?!" MacGruber said.

"There's mist or something up there..." I said.

"Where's the next turnoff?" Alphonso asked.

"Just up ahead, 200 meters." Lieutenant said.

Then I saw it, the massive gate overhead that welcomed the people to their city. It was a gate of what looked like stone. And once we got inside, my eyes burned again and it was funny that they burned because the city did the same. The entire city was on fire. I hadn't noticed since my sector was positioned in such a way that I couldn't see the buildings. But someone finally called it.

"Jesus Christ! The whole city's in flames!" Eric shouted.

I could feel the heat of the city. But it didn't bother me at all. _Give the thanks to the desert_, Teller said.

"Werewolf Lima to Beta, interrogative: do we have any comms with the SEALS?"

"We've picked up the freq, and we're tracking them down. They've rallied near a small building on the west side of town. 300 meters left, 200 meters right, 400 up the last street."

"Roger that!" MacGruber said, "Sergeant, did you get that?"

"I'm way ahead of you, sir!"

I didn't have time to find out any of the radio frequencies for the unit. There was nothing but helter-skelter.

The city streets were lined with sand and deep depressions in the road. They weren't potholes but they were close enough. Someone called gas over the radio. It didn't really hit me until I got a shock. Civilians were everywhere. I thought they were simply fleeing the fire. But they became aggressive as we approached. We didn't have a warning this time. They swarmed us like they were a pack of gigantic hornets. I heard the screams; the feral, guttural screams.

_The people in that incident outside Mogani…some of them were…mutated. Their skin was…_

_Holy shit_, I thought.

It wasn't the Soma who had the SEALs pinned down…it was the infected people. The same ones from Mogani.

All the civilians ran right for the convoy. This time, the men didn't have to dig in their robes for the Ak-47s. They had them in hand already. The women and children had knives, pitchforks, backhoes…and automatic weapons themselves. But this was not like Mogani at all. They came right for us, no cadence, no chanting, no confusing rhetoric. They all began to take off and charge us, they blasted everything they had. They were far worse than a stampede of wild elephants. As they ran they screamed their curses at us. It seemed the term infidel was a rather popular theme among the Hazri. They all ran as one big group. Once again, they were all coordinated predators focusing on tearing us to pieces.

However, now we'd been lured into the greatest of traps. The enemy poured out of every crack and hole in the burning city. Before we drove inside the city, I never considered this a test of my dreams. This was now a different game. It was a mercy mission trapped inside a mission of survival. Now, I had to see if both could be fulfilled. We rode up the middle of the narrow pathway and debris began to fall of the sides of the structures. Alphonso dodged a burning piece of wood as we all opened up on the enemy.

"What the hell are these people doing?!" the LT asked.

_The darkness will twist the souls of their people…_

"Shit! It's just like back in Severja!" Adrian shouted.

"Keep going! Run 'em over if you have to!"

I didn't look forward. I felt the crushing of bone beneath us. It made me a little sick. Alphonso wasn't quite as squirmy but I knew he felt the same on the inside.

"This like that zombie movie I watched when I was thirteen." Walt said as he shot at more of the crazed people.

"Walt, shut up please!" I quickly responded.

I remembered that movie _Survivor Island_. The movie Walt referred to was the one I, Micho, Tasha, Rebecca Harding, and Walt watched when were that age of question. When we were little kids, since Tasha and I shared birthdays, it was difficult for my parents to come up with a party idea that we both liked. On the day in question, our birthday fell on a Friday. Finally, my mom got a brilliant idea of letting us stay up all night and watch movies she'd gotten. My parents left us alone in the den and we watched a movie called _The Dead Night in Newhart_. My mother had made a mistake. She'd borrowed them from Cormorance, but Micho's dad made the mistake of having the wrong DVD in the player. Cormorance often got his movies in…_creative_ ways, but he'd keep forgetting to label them. It wasn't that gory, but it was enough to scare the shit out of us.

It was ironic that both movies had Jodie Diesen in them.

Back in Mogani…it felt like a horror movie had come to life. As we drove over the crushed remains of people, we _were_ in the horror movie.

They came out of the houses, roofs and alleyways like a million ants from their lair. We blasted at everyone we saw. An RPG round flew between us and the lead vehicle exploded on my side and threw a few of our attackers into the air. I blasted a shotgun wielding enemy and briefly saw a child as we made the next turn. But the kid had a gun as well. I didn't shoot, but someone else did. I couldn't see his facial expression.

_The dying child at the gate, twisted in the razors of the concertina wire…_

Finally, we managed to get Company-wide comms with the SEALs, "This is Bravo India…we're taking heavy fire…sustained multiple casualties…"

We made the last turn and saw the area where the SEALs had made their stand. The street was the widest one I'd seen in such a small city. It kinda reminded me of MSR Susan in Severja. I switched off my NVGs for a second, and then looked at the area. The road looked like one long mass of dusty rock. On the left up ahead there were a long series of tracer rounds coming from one of the buildings. All along the way, we saw nothing but bodies. Twisted corpses spilled dead blood out into the street. The sheer lakes of blood in the street caused Alphonso to spin the wheels of the LARA and he would have pulled a Cameron had it not been for some good evasive driving.

I couldn't make it out too much, but the entire district's living areas were kinda similar to the apartments in West Hollywood. They'd massacred the band of attackers and we pulled up and began setting up defensive positions.

The T-LARA was in the rear pack and pulled up alongside the house. Our LARA was near the alleyway near the house. We dismounted and the siege was on. There was just one problem. The battleground was entirely too long. I looked up the road and there was a strange quiet for a little while. There were at least twelve soldiers inside plus any of the missing Marines they found.

The quiet was broken up by the voices of the company as the SEALs ran out…and as I turned…I got another shock.

It was such I had to take off my NVGs just to confirm it.

The commander came up to the T-LARA to give Morrison the sitrep. He didn't have on the traditional PPE that most Marines and Navy personnel wore. There were a series of smooth plates over his chest and his body. It was like a Kevlar suit that looked something out a science fiction movie. It was familiar…it was the exact same suit as we wore. There also appeared to be some extra lining, a red or dark trim to it. It didn't make any sense.

"What the hell are those guys wearing?" Walt shouted at me. "They got the same suits as us!"

But even as I thought the same thing, I looked up the main road out from beyond the alley…and saw a stampede of people and several tracers skipping over our heads. It was a wall of people running down the road. The mass of humanity crashed down the road and we were about to be overrun. Some of the LARAs began repositioning themselves to deal with the threat. Everyone opened up.

"Block the road!" someone shouted, but I had no idea who said that.

"Everyone get ready to withdraw. Walt, Brandon, you guys take the position inside the LARA and watch the alley!" MacGruber ordered.

I wasn't sure what the hell he was talking about. It seemed like a strange order to give at a time like that, but he wasn't Lieutenant Dickerson. _Besides, how in the hell would we watch the alley __**inside**__ the LARA? _

I couldn't see them from my position, but I got a huge shock when several crazed civilians jumped over the wall next to us. They jumped. The wall was at least ten feet high. A brief flirtation with horror followed as Walt panicked and shot at them. Of course, Walt had to stupidly fire out _my_ side instead of his side. If I'd been killed, I imagined that he'd have owned my child and my girlfriend a legitimate explanation as to _why_ he fired his weapon out of _my_ side of the vehicle instead of watching his own. And typical Walt…

A bang was heard and a massive push was felt alongside our vehicle. We almost got knocked off our feet. I looked over to my right and saw a few enemies had run over to Walt's side of the vehicle!

"What in the world?!" I shouted, "Walt! Shoot on your own goddamn side, you idiot!"

Walt finally turned and engaged his proper targets and I did to mine…as it should have happened in the first place. The enemy's maddened screams were unbearable. It wasn't quite like in Mogani. However, it didn't last too long because Walt couldn't see the large numbers of them gathered alongside our vehicle and I finally realized…they were trying to _tip the vehicle over_.

"Get them off!" I shouted. I was scared for a moment. How in the world could these crazed people tip a LARA over? How could the virus have given such power to a handful of people? I could see them, their teeth almost like fangs. They snarled and their screams sounded almost animal like. I didn't have time to feel sympathy or concern. There was one more violent crash.

This Seelow Rot was nothing but evil incarnate.

"These people are insane! What's going on!?" I shouted.

"Get ready to peel!" someone else shouted.

I assumed from the chaotic radio transmissions that the SEALs were almost done exfiltrating.

Above us, there was a series of scaffolding from the fire escape. It was kinda like the scaffolding you'd see in an older apartment building. We didn't think much of it…we should have. Above us, I guessed what happened was that a few more enemy infiltrators jumped down to the other side of the building. Looking back on it, it probably really did happen that way. The only thing I remember was happened after they showed up. Eric was still blasting away as the enemies were even jumping off rooftops and fighting their way through the burning buildings in front of our location.

It was so fast. I could scarcely believe it happened. There was a bang on the ground as Walt was distracted on my side. What was going on with him? That loss of concentration proved to be a terrible thing. One of the creatures grabbed Walt and pulled him out like a ragdoll. Everyone was distracted a bit, but I looked to the right and tried to shoot at the enemy carrying him. He'd dropped his weapon and…

"What the!?" I shouted. I jumped and saw two of them had grabbed Walt. Then, a couple more enemies crashed through one of the side doors as Eric, Adrian and the others opened up. The creatures saw us and jumped up with Walt onto a dumpster.

I could only see his eyes beneath the helmet. They didn't move at first. I was stunned as the creatures pulled him up onto the balcony. One more creature was to my left and I took him out easily. They dropped from the rooftop like spiders from webs. I rushed up the stairs, knocked away and killed a few monsters in the process. No one followed me. I didn't think that there wasn't a purpose for going after Walt, a man who had all sorts of issues. A man who hated other women just because of anything…whatever reason he could find. I almost tripped as one of the monsters grabbed him and pulled up out of sight. I heard a loud scream in that direction, but I couldn't tell if it was Walt or the wild scream of one of the infected people.

"Walt!" I shouted.

I got to the top of the stairs and saw the two creatures holding Walt by the arms. I knew these creatures were incredibly strong, but Walt…he didn't put up any resistance. At least, he didn't put up any fight I could see. The beast men turned their eyes to me and in one fluid brutal motion, they turned their bodies toward me and in their arms they each held one sleeve of a nano-titanium fiber weaved arm guard. From the turn, I could see a spraying in the illuminated night, they were barely specks…but I saw them. The spraying of blood. Walt's status had gone from cautious to critical in an instant.

"Get off him!" I shouted, at a loss for words.

And just like that, I pulled the trigger twice on the two monstrous men. They both went down and I checked Walt. But his status went from critical to deceased in a single moment. In war, life was a series of nothingness broken up by periods. This was one of those periods. Walt was dead.

I couldn't speak, but I didn't have to. I heard Morrison's voice over the radio and even he was shocked. And everyone knew it at that point. Two more of them jumped onto the metal platform. I hit of the men square in the head. He was wearing some kind of shawl or something.

"This is Werewolf Alpha, we have a KIA. I repeat: we have a KIA!" shouted Morrison.

The others cursed, some went silent. I went silent as well. I quickly bent down to Walt's body. For these creatures to have killed him, something awfully gory had to occur. If I needed any more proof of how strong these creatures were, I needed to look no further than the corpse of Walter Snow.

They'd torn off his arms.

My breathing had spiked and my heart beat faster than it did in a normal firefight. No matter how much of an asshole a Marine was, no one got left behind. I quickly picked up the remains, the aptly named ones, of Walt and carried them back down to the LARA. By now, the fire had picked up again, as the wounded SEALs were being taken into the T-LARA in the rear. From my position, Eric blasted away on the turret and nailed targets several blocks down the road. I went back up the roof to establish another position, unwisely so, at first. I shot down at two more of the crazed assailants who carried some knives. I looked to the left and saw a familiar voice shouting among the chaos. There were two of them who had to crowd into our vehicle. It was strange, but I could swear I heard Lillian's voice. I looked down and saw a woman…the outlines of her face, they were so familiar.

Then I heard…

_Thanks for saving my ass, darling._

_Save the compliment, let's just get the hell out of here!_

It _was_ Lillian Izzo, my favorite left-wing, lesbian, touchy, purple scarf, white/yellow dress wearing, crazy person in the world. And even when she'd obviously been through possible torture and sick experiments, she still maintained her sense of humor and ecstasy. But I was overjoyed, and yet I almost missed a few more of the insane people jumping off the roof. I looked up and saw a trio of them jumping down. I dodged to the right and moved for the stairs, but _they_ were not quite lined up the landing, crashed into the ground, lit up by Chapman and the LT. It was a strange pace of feeling. My heart was going up and down, sadness to ecstasy in a few minutes.

"Come on!" the LT shouted at me.

Confused at first, I ran into the side the stairs leading down and almost fell. I regained my footing as a blast from a couple of dozen meters away lit up the area. Adobe and rock flew down the alley.

"All Werewolf Victors, this is Alpha. We have orders to withdraw at once. I repeat, all Victors withdraw from the city!"

Dickerson said. "What? Sir, we've still friendlies in the area!"

"G1 sent it in! All units withdraw down MSR Bradley and hold, break-break!"

And just when I heard that, I was pissed off. I was angrier at Walt's shocking death, but G1's involvement was even more frustrating. It wasn't a strange entity like in the Baston Forest. Now it was clear that whoever up in Command called G1 was trying to micromanage our own rescue mission. But why would she ask us to leave our troops behind? That was just not _done_. We took an oath not to do that. That was akin to cheating on your wife or inappropriately touching a kid. You never left anyone behind. No branch did that. The SEALs themselves had to be angry with us. I heard the shouts amid the gunfire on all sides of us. Here we'd come to rescue them, and now they had to leave dead comrades behind. Walt was not being left behind, that was for sure.

"Roger." MacGruber said, his voice deflated and his spirit drained out in the manner of a few seconds. "Guys, we need to withdraw!"

Everyone began to react as if their feet were stuck in syrup. Everyone was confused, even after the order had been given twice. Alphonso was perplexed, a rare thing for the Sapinian. By now the screaming cannibal-like monster-men were beginning to fall back. Some of the more insane kept up their charge and ran right into the Harpoon gunfire. I was distracted by the action, but I had to snap to when the LT ran up to me.

"Go! Go!" he shouted at me, grabbing me.

"Come on! We gotta go!" I hear someone shout. I thought it was Mason from Team Two who blocked with the others, but it was actually Cameron who said it as Adrian and Wash were livid with the order. The trio screamed at each other before the officers ran over and told them to get ready to move. Lillian piled into our LARA, Walt's body was shoved into the back and Adrian and Wash jumped on. We pulled out of the alley.

"Holy shit, Brandon…you know what I just realized?!" Lillian said, oblivious to everything around her.

"What?"

"If you told me a year ago you'd be carrying me out of a building in a city full of crazed, zombie like people…I'd have had both of us committed."

"I can only hope."

"Is Carile alive?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. Thank god. I get to go home and get laid."

"Lillian…that was too much infor…"

"Oh, stop it. We're adults." Lillian retorted. By then, I had a headache. I couldn't breathe. My inconsistent emotions were killing my head. I couldn't understand it. I never thought the human mind was equipped to deal with this. It was much different, however, when I wasn't thinking about life and death in a war. I just wanted Lillian to shut up.

"Lillian…please, be quiet." I said. My voice was strained, wounded. I couldn't even take off my helmet to hold my temples in frustration and pain.

"Everyone's in! Go, go, go!" Morrison called over the radio.

I sat there as we drove on, not even looking into my sector for a minute. Lillian was sitting where Walter was before. I remembered the look in his eyes as the beasts tore him apart. It was almost a look of no concern. It was as if he didn't even care about dying. We fled the place as quickly as we entered, crushing bone and blood to get out as fast as we could. The scorched town was, at least for me, a backdrop to the horrors of a hated enemy. I did hate the Soma. They were the reason this had happened. They cared little about their own people. But it wasn't just their people; there were representatives of all Yuke cultures. Religious dogma was no reason for such blatant disregard for life. But then again, Walt's indifference was just as shocking as the hordes of crazed people.

The night consumed us and all I could think about where three words.

_What a waste_.

***

**2400 hrs**

Walter Snow didn't deserve to die like that.

In the military during peacetime, time was simply one long period of abyss broken up my meaningless drivel and drill until it was time to leave and be with family, friends and whatnot. Time held a different meaning during war. Time was merely periods of insane drivel from commanders, insane stories from comrades, long hours of boredom and depression in between bursts of explosions and fusillades. There were times where you just didn't feel anything at all.

One half of my soul burned in pain and the other was numb and cold.

Heroes weren't supposed to feel this way after successfully completing a mission.

We'd arrived back at our original staging area in the unnamed town, as if that was a surprise. We'd already gotten our dose of multiple shocks. For me, I could only watch insane, zombie-like people rip off Walt's arms. Then there was the burning town where they came from, our own personal taste of hell. That was it.

The others had a different concern. They were all up in arms about the SEALs and their Ultimate Warrior Suits. I didn't care. Micho had led the angry speech all the way back to our position.

_I didn't sweat, bleed, and fight through pain and get promised that we were the elite Marines just to have everybody and their mother wearing them too!_

It was a horrifying fact to everyone but a few of us. Most of them were the same age as me. But it seemed I wasn't as naïve as they were. _There were no guarantees in life_, my father said. One of the SEALs had told the Captain that they'd been wearing them for about a year…many months before we even saw them. We'd been promised that we were the new breed of Marine rifleman.

So I told Micho and Eric to shut the hell up and get over it. I didn't care about the elite status of our company or the UWS anymore. To me, I had enough to think about. War had changed me.

War had not changed Walter Snow.

Walt had a habit for inspiring bad behavior. It was Walt's fault that Micho started drinking as a teenager. He just caused all sorts of problems.

Two years before the infamous "Brawl in the Biology Lab", Walt's self-proclaimed beatdown of his sister, Walt was already a volatile person.

Our school's basketball coach, Coach Hamlet, in his infinite wisdom, let Walt be on the team. Granted, Walt _was_ pretty good at basketball. But he was an asshole. In his first year, he surpassed the state record for technical fouls. He knocked down and kicked one player and was suspended for three games.

And his second year? He threw a chair at a cheerleader, threw the drink container into the stands and punched a referee in the face…in one game. Then, one of the fans threw something at Micho. He, Damien Measels, and Paulie Craig went into the stands after the fan and were thrown out of the game. They all got suspended for ten days in addition, kicked off the team and permanently banned from attending any official sport.

Coach Hamlet was fired the next day. Of course, no one argued with _that_ call. The entire basketball team was an undisciplined mess even before Walt showed up. The basketball program was removed. And the most damaging of all, most of the junior varsity cheerleaders (the Varsity cheered at the football games, the school's biggest attraction) who attended the basketball games were forced off the team because of the subsequent removal of the basketball program. There just wasn't enough funding.

In the military, nothing changed. Walt did all kinds of crazy, stupid, negligent shit.

Getting physical with a drill instructor.

Taking other people's stuff and hiding it just before room inspection.

Insulting our platoon class leader's girlfriend.

In Recon Training, still…nothing changed.

Only bringing five mags to the Immediate Action Drills when the instructor said bring seven.

During training, there was his infamous _falling asleep on firewatch_, a Marine Corps Cardinal sin.

Getting into a fight with Cameron and Eric over some girl they met on libo.

_Again_, taking other people's stuff and hiding it just before room inspection.

It was endless.

Some were sympathetic to him. He did have a _horrible_ upbringing. His family had died when he was young and he and his siblings drifted from foster home to foster home, just as my mother had done when she was a little girl. Yet, Juanita and Kei Nagase didn't go sideways at the drop of a hat. Then again, they were females. Ninety percent of women just didn't do stupid crap all the time. My dad believed that a structured environment could improve his attitude. Funny, Tasha did her share of stupid things in high school. So did I, so did Micho, so did Dulcinea, so did Damien and Cameron and Willie…

_We_ didn't become a mess.

No structured environment could handle Walt. My sister loved that song _Teenaged Wasteland_. Walter Snow _was_ the Teenaged Wasteland…no, more like _Teenaged Nuclear Wasteland. _The military was a stopgap since it was just a bottom line world…and he was surrounded by plenty of people who could kick his ass on a dime. But he always found ways to _act a fool_.

I felt sorry for my mom and her feelings toward the late Snow. He knew his dad from ye olden days upon the Kestrel and in Versua. My dad…he wasn't so forgiving. _That kid's going nowhere_, he said. The fact I even hung around him from time to time drew scorn from my parents.

Walter Snow was a dumpster fire of a human being.

But he didn't deserve to die. Walter was liked by some because when he wasn't a crazy person, he had a facade of a true allure. He could laugh at anything and anyone. Granted, his impersonations were pretty hilarious. But there was a terrible, dark side to him. It was easy to forget in those light moments that he only jested because he bared fangs at everyone around him.

He never lied about what he was, but he never held himself accountable for any of it. The others were talking about Walt, and some had words of derision. We'd already had a token memorial for him, one that when it was finished I couldn't get away from fast enough.

There was the old woman playing her violin.

She acted as if I wasn't there…at first. Lillian was talking to someone, and I walked towards the near octogenarian string savant.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked.

"How did you know?"

She only pointed to her head. I knew, to an extent, what it was she meant. She knew.

"He died as he lived." She said.

"He shouldn't have." I replied.

"But you hated him…and his death was no surprise. Nothing in life is truly a surprise. We all get what we deserve in the end."

"He didn't deserve his fate."

"He lived violently. He lived with hate. "

"I didn't want it to happen. We don't want to each other to be killed."

But as much as I hated to admit it, Walt probably did have it coming. I'd been lying to myself for some time and this old woman had snuffed it out. I walked away from her for a mere moment and let her play her violin.

Walter Snow's dark side was obvious once the bare components were revealed. He just didn't care about anything, not even himself.

He just didn't care. I knew him well enough to know that every time he said he was sick of the Corps, I knew it was just a cover for the ambivalence of his life. When Walt was taken downtown after the Brawl in the Biology Lab, they gave him a psychiatric exam sometime after. Ignoring all the benefits of patient/doctor confidentiality, he told me and Micho outright what the doctor said.

_She said I was borderline sociopathic_, he said.

There was one time where I didn't think Rico or Walt's behavior could be considered sociopathic. That was the great extreme. But both men seemed to lack empathy, in Rico's case…his lack of concern or care for Tasha. Rico was more of a narcissist. Walt was a misanthrope.

I remembered one time in 10th grade where Walt had said he didn't care about life. It didn't add up.

Before I talked to the old woman, everyone in Werewolf stood in formation and shouted _kill_, just as we'd done countless times in training, all for the memory of Walter Snow. I didn't say it. I just mouthed the words. Afterwards, I looked at Alphonso Adair, a person that everyone would have missed…almost everyone at least. I would have cried for him if he died.

The Sapinian, the one who Walt hated the most, was torn up about it. It spoke highly of him to mourn Walt. I couldn't dig out the emotion.

How was I supposed to mourn someone who didn't care about his own life? How could I mourn someone who lived only to cut other people down?

_A true hero wouldn't feel that_, I said to myself.

"Someone's waiting for you?" she asked me, her handle pointing at me.

"What? Yeah, there is. Plenty of people."

"You hate your enemy but don't want the death of a man who hated everyone? You cannot have the cake and eat it."

"You told me to endure. That's what I'm doing."

"No, you want to live."

"I do."

"Then you cannot make yourself into more than a man…if you _only_ want to survive."

"It's not for me. It's for someone I love."

I picked out Dulcinea rosary beads and showed them to the old woman. Funny, Dulcinea told me they could _save my life someday_. I wasn't sure if I believed her at the time. As the woman held them in her hand, I sensed it had just as practical a purpose as a lifesaver.

"What is this?"

"Something she gave me."

"Do you have children?"

"One that's not born yet."

"Do they hate you for what you believe?"

"No."

"There you go. They believe too. They matter more than any comrade of yours."

My eyes bulged. "What?"

"_They_ believe. Nothing more is needed."

And just like that, the answer fell into my lap. I was wrong. Kaida was wrong. I was already a hero. Dulcinea and our kid were the only ones who truly believed. The woman handed me back the beads and I put them back into my pocket. The woman cracked a faint smile and went back to playing her violin. For her, life had been a bottom line thing. Her advice was simple, sharp, and to the point. She did not seem like a woman who enjoyed her life nor disliked it. She seemed to drift through it, absorbing life's lessons like a sponge. It wasn't that she was indifferent; it just felt like her life had only just been that…life. I originally thought she'd be a crotchety old woman who'd be angry at me, a nineteen year old foreign invader.

But she spoke about my father and I imagined that too was what my father believed he only was, a twenty two year old invader who was a living legendary story for himself, my mother and his friends.

All the things that my mother's diary had said about my dad were repeated by this old woman. My dad was an accomplished hero by then. He'd saved thousands of Osean lives, helped rescue the woman who'd give birth to me and two other pilots, destroyed two gigantic submarines with war momentum-changing weapons, saved the President one of the two times he actually did, protected the Kestrel from destruction, helped destroy an giant underground weapons facility, significantly reduced casualties on the Bastok landings…

What had I done?

I'd killed dozens of enemy soldiers, I'd located a secret underground laboratory that blew the lid open on the Soma's experimentations and the Seelow Rot virus, I found Lucy Devia, I located Carile Southerland and was probably the reason she was still alive, and now I'd rescued her soon-to-be stepmother, Lillian Izzo…well, not really…but she was alive.

I'd done my duty well, as far as I thought. The village, Walt's death, it had all been my personal baptism by fire.

It seemed a bit hollow for heroism though. I had to do more, but it was a fine start. I turned from her and walked away to let her be content with whatever life she'd carved out.

"Hey, you." Lillian said, walking up to me and kissing me on the cheek. I didn't recoil from embarrassment that time though. "Your Captain's rather _insistent_ that I return to Bethlehem Park. But I just wanted to say goodbye. And I thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh, stop it…_hero_." Lillian said, giving a slight love tap in my chest, "It's okay to have a little pride. Why else would you dream? There's no sense toiling in obscurity."

"I'm just happy I did my job."

"Well, be happy then…and let the rest of us speak for you."

"Sueltana's nowhere to be found, the war's still on. My job's not finished yet."

Lillian grabbed me by the collar, but it wasn't an angry snatch. It was more out of concern.

"Then _live_, goddamn it…and find your sister before her corpse finds you. Dead heroes mean nothing to anyone." she said.

"You didn't hear anything about her?"

Lillian sighed then became angry, "All I know is that they're kidnapping people for experimentation. Those Hazri doctors…they're screwed up in the head! I heard about some children whose tongues were removed and stored in jars for experiment samples."

I shuddered. Another small piece of the puzzle…

Lucy was on the list of people _they_ looked for. I knew enough about Hazri tradition that the removal of body parts was a rare thing, but socially and religiously acceptable. But as I heard Lillian's words, I realized that horrible practice had _practical reasoning_ behind it; twisted it was, but nevertheless practical.

"Well, if you'll excuse me…I need a bath, I need a computer and I need to get back home before Oured tears itself apart even more. Well, four…I got a wedding to plan and I expect you and your family to be in attendance."

"Assuming, of course, the war ends quickly."

"Don't believe them…this war's going to be over sooner than later."

Lillian kissed me on the check again, and much to confusion of the others who were still in their funk about Walt, the SEALs and their UWS suits. Izzo started to walk away. At some point in the some twenty seconds between the pause, I heard the old woman play her violin again. She stopped and listened under the starry night.

"That woman has some beautiful music. What is it, I wonder? Bach? Mozart?" Lillian asked as she put her thumb and index finger on her chin in contemplation.

"I thought you said Mozart was pretentious."

"Well, yeah. But…that sounds like Mozart."

"Tchaikovsky." I finally said.

"What?"

"That's not Mozart," I said grimly, "She's playing Tchaikovsky."

Next Chapter: Pride Before the Fall


	21. Pride Before the Fall

Chapter 21: Pride Before the Fall

_**Tasha**_

**September 10, 2037**

**Arasi Sands, North of Severja**

**2032 hrs**

I heard a lot of things. I wasn't in Bethlehem Park obviously. It was some shock trauma unit in the rear. Spent a few hours under the knife and all I'd done in the time since was wonder what life would have been like if I never joined the military at all. My life would have been much easier. I would have met better human beings than Rico, Charles and Jason. There'd be no more reveille, no more PT, no more idiot officers to deal with, no more dumb rules or inspections, and most of all…no more rifle cleaning. There would be no more bad food.

I'd have my own life, my own dream, and my own rules. I'd be in college, struggling to make it to Calculus, sneaking off to parties to do keg stands, and plenty of decent, beautiful men to date. No more sand, no more heat, and no one shot at you. I wouldn't be a target.

And war would have been an abstract idea. I could not vicariously live it through my parents.

And most importantly of all, there would be no more death. Back home, death was something either abstract or indistinguishable to most people. Most people would lose loved ones on occasion and feel grief, but they were not in an environment that _promoted_ death and destruction. My hometown wasn't a place where death was encouraged.

But then someone else's little girl would have been on the battlefield. Someone else's little girl would have been in the same hospital bed I was in, but they'd be in incredible pain.

My war was all but over; at least that's what they said. The funny thing was that my body didn't feel as bad as I thought it would after the surgery. I wonder if it had anything to do with my genetic dysfunction. My mom had surgery once and she wasn't the same for at least two days.

My hospital bed was hard and the smell of dirt was all around the area. We were inside a building, but like most places in Yuktobania, the walls were a permutation of gray, black, red or white paint.

There was a hole the size of a small jawbreaker just underneath my heart. Had it been a few inches higher…my aorta would have written its own will. My parents would have wept for days and my sister would have no one to make fun of. Brandon wouldn't know what to do with himself. There was another hole in me, one in my leg. It had missed the bone completely. But I wasn't lucky because for a few hours, I wanted to die.

I wanted to die because Xanthia wasn't beside me in this place.

I met Xanthia in the same place my brother met his girlfriend. It was summer. I was completely lost as I drove around trying to find the Sade D'lafate Plaza east of the Hermosa Strip by the beach. The problem with Cara's Cove was that it was very difficult to get around. There were three main areas in Cara's Cove, Soho Strip, Hermosa Strip and Renaldo Strip. Dulcinea lived in Hermosa Strip. Micho and the others always hung out in Soho Strip since that was where the bars and strip joints where. The metropolitan area was a labyrinth of asphalt. I thought I arrived when I ended up at the Triangle Statue, however…that was in Hermosa on the other side of the damn city!

Frustrated, I got out of my car and tried to call Brandon and curse him out for his piss-poor directions.

It was then I saw someone to the left of me. I was wearing these beige pants and white, ruffled shirt. I'd bought them at a pricey store in Formosa Hill. But this other woman was wearing this cheap get up. Her white jeans were ripped a little, her shoes were old and she wore this powder blue camisole top. She had some kind of glitter eyeliner and her nails looked like the top of her fingers were bleeding into them.

I didn't see her come next to me but as I looked left, I found myself looking up at her. Next to me was the giantess, a rail thin six feet and an inch of russet eyes and light brown skin. She had something in that black hair, some kind of strange glint…some hairstyling product. I had my own long raven hair back then. She was beautiful though.

There was absolutely _nothing_ about her to suggest she was military personnel, even if she was on vacation. A lot of people from St. Hewlett vacationed down in Cara's Cove, even if it was damn hard to get around. Hollywood was too far away.

She asked me if I was lost. I told her yes. She said, _wouldn't it be cool to be lost together? I'm kinda new in town myself._ I was tired of looking for my brother, and if I had have taken a little more apprehension to this woman…our future would have been much different. I said, okay, let's go somewhere and go nuts.

_Where are you from_, I asked.

She said _Rutherford_; then she asked me where I was from.

I said Pikes Hugo, Alaska.

To which she responded, _for real? You're seriously from Alaska? Well, no wonder you were lost. That's like a whole different country up there._

She introduced herself and I did the same. She and I walked down the street like two lost cats and tried not to get hit by the insane drivers who littered the area. The sun died down, the street lights came on, and the sky was filled with a beautiful orange, golden glow. We continued to trade barbs on our home states.

_They got Eskimos up there or what_, she asked. Her hearty laugh filled the air.

_No! It's pretty normal. I guess there's nothing but drive-bys in your neighborhood then._

_Well…yeah, you'd be right. It's kinda funny though. My town's got a lot of Belkans in it. A lot of them moved there after the war way back then. _

_Forget that, let's get crazy. Let's go find something to do._

_Let me ask you something, where's a place you'd never go to in a million years? _

_I don't know…a strip club maybe?_

Needless to say, we ended up going to a strip club in Soho Strip called _the Dolphin_. Funny thing was, the place was relatively new. However, she did know someone that worked in the club by sheer chance. One of the dancers was named Dakota, and apparently she'd once been a former Marine up at St. Hewlett. At the time, I didn't question how one went from Marine Corps accountant to stripper; I probably should have. But Dakota got us in for free. It was then my powder blue shirt wearing friend told me she too was a Marine. I never thought we'd end up in the same unit, but we did. Of course that was after we ran out after someone got a little wild and started a fight with the DJ. Since I was staying down there, she gave me her address. She took off that night and exactly a minute after my fast friend left, Brandon, Dulcinea, Charlotte (Dulcinea's cousin), and Jamie (Charlotte's husband) showed up in Dulcinea's uber-expensive car.

He asked: _Where the hell were you?_

I replied: _I don't know, I watched some strippers with a black woman and gave 'em a hundred bucks._

To which my brother replied: _Tasha, you've got some problems._

Then I said: _Where were YOU?_

Dulcinea said: _We were going to Rachel's pajama party before you decided to bail on us._

My brother said: _who was that woman you were hanging out with anyway?_

Then I said: _some girl named Xanthia._

And the rest was history.

As I lied there in the dead hospital room, I knew that such a thing would never occur again. It was just as apocryphal as my parents' air force carrier or the occurrence of a strange comet in my lifetime. But none of that made me cry. Xanthia King was gone.

I could only lay there alone. The walls were narrow though. There were times in the hours where I would rub my index finger against the wall and wonder who was next to me. I heard many things. As I finished the moping about Zanne, I was surprised to hear the voice of Ivanava. The voices came from the very room next to me. When she did speak, I lit up a little. But as she spoke, there was another set of voices. The first was the voice of a woman. It was hard to determine who's voice was more regal, hers or Ivanava's. The second was a man and judging from his voice, he was a Yuke. However, his intentions were made rather clear as it went on.

"_So, Ivanava. What's new in your world? How's progress?"_

"_Well, we have a unique problem. I took poor Tasha's blood and it seems that the virus does indeed respond to it. The genetic information is changed. It worked. Seelow can be countered…even cured."_

"_And the catch?"_

"_Well, I think I understand why the enemy wanted them both."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_For the hell of it, I combined the blood of the brother and the sister…and I injected the mixture into the vial. The virus cells multiplied at an incredible rate. The cellular growth was triggered from 1024 to over a million in seventeen seconds. The host was starving itself in mitosis before…"_

"_I'm not a goddamn pathologist, Zarolslav. What does this mean?"_

"_How rude. I expected more of you, dear Sorenia."_

"_It's Sorenson."_

"_Oh, sorry."_

Finally, after a long silence, the Yuktobanian man spoke. His voice was raspy, the kind of voice and old smoker would have.

"_What she's saying is that the combined blood is having the opposite effect. The SR strand that had been exposed to the two siblings' blood had created an entirely new strand. We tested it with the original compound…and nothing happened. The DNA mutation was still there. The Rhombus Gene Contingency was worthless."_

"_Let me get this straight. There's a third possible configuration of this?!"_

"_I'm afraid so."_

Zarolslav decided to cut in. I wasn't sure if there was any animosity between the group. I was about to find out.

"_Not so fast. It can be cured. All the combined serum needs is a third host, one affected by the RGC, of course. And there are plenty of ways to manage that."_

"_There's no guarantee it works, woman…or man or whatever you call yourself."_

"_I am merely more than a mere human..."_

"_A freak."_

Now I was upset. Zarolslav was once a pure female. Then a couple of a sickos kidnapped her and like many other unfortunate people captured by the Soma, she was exposed to the Seelow Rot virus. However, in Ivanava's case, she had a truly unique circumstance. She was exposed over many weeks to the virus. However, because she carried a unique genetic defect they called the Rhombus Gene, the implications of which still escaped me, she didn't die or suffer any negative effects from it. It did, however, change her anatomical makeup. It turned her into a hermaphrodite. It also changed the color of her eyes, her skin, and it even made her taller than she actually was.

_I am both concurrently male and female…and neither at all. I have no idea what to call myself anymore. I don't even look the way I did months ago, _she said.

This almost complete metamorphosis had an obvious effect on her mind as well. Frankly, I didn't blame her for her antics. I would have been a little unhinged myself if I was changed into an androgynous freak of nature.

"_I am an item of beauty. And what does my true gender matter to you. I could crush the bones in your neck with my off hand at will."_

And of course, it made her strong as a superhero.

"_And a freak nonetheless."_

Whoever this Sorenson woman was, she was obviously the fulcrum; the calming influence.

"_Enough, both of you; I'd keep your insults to a minimum here, okay?"_

"_It doesn't change the fact that we still need the brother. We can't inoculate everyone in Yuktobania without him."_

"_They can't do it alone."_

"_Actually they can…if we had enough blood."_

"_Dr. Raji, there is no way the Osean government is going to allow their own soldiers to participate in this cockamamie plan of yours without significant proof. There are ways around this."_

Dr. Raji, his name was. I could tell he was a doctor, but now I knew there was plenty of animosity between the two. That would also imply that Sorenson was a doctor as well.

"_My people are dying. My homeland is dying. They have a chance to save us all from Musharak's evil."_

"_There is no way. I can't allow that to happen. If you have a problem with it, take it up with General Moreland. But I still have authority here…and you have to trust me on this. There is a better way to do this." _

"_Sorenson, the needs of many outweigh…_

"…_the needs of the few, I know the old quote. But this is not a black and white situation. Why don't you tell this girl's parents that? They have the right to decide. After all, they did fight to save this country 27 years ago…and again in 2016. They've done enough for you. What are you going to tell them?"_

"_Sacrifices have to be made. We can save this world. We can all be heroes."_

If this Dr. Raji thought I was going to be a part of that idea, he was dead wrong. The woman was spot on to mention my parents. Hadn't my parents done enough? Since my dream was no longer to follow Brandon's lead, I had no desire for any delusions of heroism. However, to my brother, it was all very real. And it was clear that such a thing held a lot of weight in the eyes of Dr. Raji…and as I would discover, this Sorenson as well.

_Wait a minute_, I thought, _how the hell did she know about my parents 27 years ago?_

"_The word hero means a lot of things. It implies righteousness, will, and pride. My job is the protection of the soldiers who use our weapons. That is my first priority. And I take great pride in it. A hero without pride is just a martyr."_

I heard the snort from Raji. There was something about his response that told me everything.

"_Well, you know what they say Sorenson…pride always comes before the fall."_

My mind drifted a little. I only heard the words. I tried my best to comprehend them as I attempted to pull myself out of the sadness that had become my life in a hospital bed; my life without my friend. I didn't even think anymore about what Sorenson said about my parents. I should have, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. I wasn't going to be the hero for this one. Not everyone could. After all, someone had to survive and go home to tell the story.

I thought about Xanthia's mother and her son. By now, they'd known about Zanne's death. I had no idea how Derron was. Last time I checked, he was still in the coma from the allergic reaction he had. But that was days ago. There was no way to know if he was still alive or dead. _If he was alive though_, I thought, _who was going to take care of him?_ What if something happened to Zanne's mother? There was a story about a woman who had a heart attack and died when she found out her son had been killed overseas back in 2016.

Deaths in the military were twice as tragic. Soldiers were almost always killed by some invisible enemy that was too far away to understand.

As I thought about it, my room's door opened. The door was similar to one you'd find in a prison or some kind of psychiatric facility. That's probably what the place was before we showed up and made it Osean turf. But inside came someone I didn't expect to see show up, but despite that was physically there. It was Zarolslav.

Ivanava didn't have the mime makeup on anymore. She did have on a white lab coat and over her azul gem eyes were a pair of oversized goggles, the same ones I had to wear in Biology lab back in high school. Her nails were painted purple and underneath the laboratory smock there was some kind of brown white dress and white heels. However, protruding from underneath the dress were wide fishnet stockings. Just the sight of it should have made me laugh, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh.

"Hey, you. God, you looked like camel crap when you came in." she said, sitting on the bed.

I pushed myself up and looked at her, but I said nothing. I just looked away. Zarolslav pushed my head toward her face and took a careful look at it, as if she stared at one of her scientific creations.

"What's the matter? You're not your usual talkative self." She said, her voice down an octave.

"I've only known you for three days…if that." I finally said. I wasn't even sure about what I said myself.

Ivanava asked, "What happened, dear girl?"

"I know what you felt back then…back in Kosata."

"What?"

"I know what it's like now…to lose someone you love."

"I don't know what you feel. I've never been on a battlefield by choice. It makes everything I believe rather trivial, wouldn't you think?"

She patted me on the head, but it felt unusual. I looked over in the mirror…and I noticed my hair had grown even more! It wasn't the short cut I had before. Now it had turned into a flat parting with sets that grew down to my ears. It looked strange as hell, but it was almost similar to the hairstyle that Dulcinea's mother hand. I decided not to get back into another discussion about the virus…just yet. I changed the subject only after a few seconds of unscrambling my brain.

"Hell, people like you are the reason my brother came over here." I said.

"Men like him are a rare breed." Ivanava said. Then, as she said that, Zarolslav took her hand off my head and turned hers in a violent whip towards the door. Her teeth bared, she had the look of an angry carnivore. As this happened, a black haired man walked into the door. He wore no protective gear. He was dressed in a business casual style: black collared shirt, charcoal sport coat with no tie and dark slacks. There were black combat boots where I expected loafers. I had to admit, he looked better than most twenty year old men did.

"A dying breed, wouldn't you say?" the man said. His walk indicated he was someone of importance.

The man was obviously a Versuan, and he looked strangely familiar. He'd been flanked by a pair of men who were obvuiosly not Marines, nor Army. They carried strange looking snub rifles with the cartriages in the rear. I'd heard of those kinds of weapons, but it was strange to see them up close. Of course, my brother knew an assload about guns.

Zarolslav snarled, "_What_ are you doing here?"

The man pulled a chair up to my bed and dismissed his armed entourage from the room, "It's a free country, isn't it? Actually, I just came to check on the virus situation…and say hello to the so-called hero's sister."

That would have implied that this man had probably met Brandon before. But he did seem familiar.

"Why are _you_ so interested in Lovecraft anyway? It seems a little seedy a mercenary would be interested in some nineteen year old girl, especially someone who should have been incarcerated years ago for war crimes."

There was animosity between them, which was painfully apparent. A ten year old could have picked that up. The men who'd joined this man were obviously mercenaries as well. I knew PMCs were over here and most people didn't like PMCs.

Brandon knew much more about this stuff than I did. He read every modern book on the wars from the Belkan War in 95 to the Continental War in Usea in 2004-05, Yuktobania in 2010, Verusa in 2016-17 , the Fato Crisis in 2021, the Versuan Oil Crisis in 2025, the Wellow Uprising in 2031…

"Well, I've know the both of them since they were little kids….and their parents too."

I looked at his features, and I began to put the picture together. I remember a Versuan man visiting my parents when Brandon and I were four years old. My mother was always snarky to him. Four years later, he showed up again. He was always dressed like a movie star. He certainly looked like it too.

Ivanava put on a childish voice. "Well, la-di-da, that's news to me."

"Now, Doctor Zarolslav, I have some questions I want to ask this woman, so if you'll just be on your way."

Ivanava asked, "What do you _possibly_ have to say to her? It seems you're always causing more problems than you solve."

"No, now, Dr. Raji on the other hand, he's trouble." He said, "By the way, did you do any digging about that project I mentioned?"

"No, I didn't. I have more important things on my plate than chemical weapons projects from the 60s."

"That's rather unfortunate."

Zarolslav left the room, her steps high and narrow. It was almost the way I would storm out of a room when I was a little girl. I was alone with the Verusan man as the door shut.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked me.

"Not really."

"You don't remember me? Mr. Kaida?"

Now it all made sense. He was someone my parents fought with and against in 2016. My mother said he was a shifty figure who couldn't be trusted at all. Of course, my brother knew much more about him. He said he was a PMC pilot who fought in a lot of controversial wars. However, as I lied in my bed, it seemed he'd been made into a high level manager or executive.

"I've been all over the world and I've met a lot of strange women. Dr. Zarolslav is weirdo numero uno."

I replied, "She's the way she is because of this virus."

"I know. She told us everything. That scares me to no end; that is, the ability of the human genome to proactively evolve to respond to disease. But is what she's doing heroic? Probably not, but I won't get into why."

_What was he talking about? _

"Well, my brother always said that heroes come in all shapes and sizes. He'd know better than anyone."

Kaida turned his head away as if he'd seen someone do something stupid and couldn't find the words to say to him, "Goddamn it, if I have to hear one more word about your brother and this fools' dream he has…"

"You have a problem with it?"

"Of course I do. I live by survival. It's a natural situation, based on the animalistic way of thinking about things. Your brother is a fool because he thinks he can defy the basest of human function: survival. You guys have taken this Osean dream thing too far."

"Why? We're not allowed to dream? Why, because of a scientific way of thought?"

"In crisis, everyone reverts to their base emotions. You'll see. When the chips are down, your brother will drop his dream faster than a plane at Mach 1. Then, he can join the ranks of every soldier with common sense: ones with the will to survive."

"This idea of heroism is a dying idea. Believe me, I've been all over the world and I've witnessed every single deluded derivative of valor. It's all about survival and pride…and money too."

My brother's dream was no longer my own…but that didn't mean I wouldn't support it. I could only have _imagined_ what the conversation my brother and this Kaida was like.

"Besides, what good is a dream against a virus?" he continued.

"I heard this thing was manmade." I countered.

"It _was_. It was created by scientists your brother's company rescued during a raid on some town called St. Marie du Maurine. _Rescued_, however, is a relative term."

I heard about the rescue operation, but I had no idea they were gone. That would explain a few things. _That_ would have meant that before Zarolslav was mutated, the time period she worked in the Cinigrad asylum where they secretly tested people with the virus, that she worked with and probably knew these scientists. And that meant that they were probably working for the enemy as well.

"What do you mean?"

"Dr. Victoria and Raul Glass. They fled unfortunately. They knew about the monster they'd created. But, now it seems that everything Zarolslav said about mind control was absolutely true."

"What?"

"The same night your company was wiped out by Seelow Rot, your brother's company was attacked by hundreds of crazed Hazri natives after they themselves were exposed to the virus."

That part I already knew. But why was _that_ relevant?

"It's been happening in sporadic periods all along the Allied lines. Hell, even a few hours ago, your brother's company was attacked again by these berserk people."

Now _that_ puzzle piece showed up. The big one. It was true indeed.

"The Marine Corps has been unable to keep this under wraps. Now everyone in the military knows. And since _they_ also managed to rescue that Lillian character, who I might add is numero dos on my bizarre women list, now she already has a report out. It's a mess. No one can keep anything a secret anymore. Now, everyone in the highest positions back home is up in arms."

I was ticked off and glad at the same time. _They_ probably referred to my brother's company…and that meant they saved Lillian Izzo. I was elated inside, but I didn't quite show it on the outside.

"Well, the war's is going good…isn't it?" I said.

"The war's only as good as the Soma allows it to be. After all, they have plenty of soldiers willing to die for their imaginary god."

"I don't think the Soma's got that much fight in them." I said. However, the way I said it…maybe I tried to convince myself of the truth.

"You're ignoring the elephant in the room, Tasha. If this virus really is as potent as its proved to be already, only disaster of biblical proportions follows."

"Are you suggesting the Hazri are really going to use the weapon against the population?"

Kaida became furious. "Idiot girl. They already have, whether purposely or involuntarily."

Finally, we were interrupted by the opening door and in walked another woman. The other regal voice, "If that's true, why haven't the Soma done this already?"

"Sorenson."

The woman walked in. She had dark brown hair and she wore some kind of black and charcoal pantsuit. She also had on a rather pretty looking midnight blazer. She did exude a great deal of importance from the air in which she carried herself. However, she looked more like a pharmaceutical rep than a business woman. _Why did this war have so many business people_, I thought.

"You'd think as crazy as Musharak is, he'd have already infected his own people. They had eight months to mass produce this, you don't think they'd already done it by now…even if there were people who were already immune to this?"

The woman's voice was the exact same as the calming influence in the room next to mine.

"Well, psychopaths don't operate on our schedules."

Sorenson was clearly angry, but her words didn't show it. "Look Mr. Kaida, while you're talking about heroism, something you know nothing about, why don't take care of your own house, eh?"

"Touche. That incident was a mistake. But I'll leave the two of you alone then." Kaida said. Kaida got up out of his chair and left the room. As they did, Kaida looked right into her face with a cocky, furrowed look. This Sorenson character replied in kind.

"I really hate that man." The woman said. She sat down in the chair Kaida used.

"What is it with your family? You two just keep getting into all kinds of problems. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Now I was confused. "What do you mean? Did…"

She brought up my parents twenty seven years ago. How did she know? She wasn't someone my parents knew or at least, she didn't seem like someone they'd know.

"I've always known about you and your brother's true identities, and I didn't need friends in high places to find out."

"How?"

So…she told me everything about me and Brandon, and how she knew our parents. She had even talked to them over a webcam. Each word she said struck a chord with me. Then, I noticed her eyes. I thought they looked blue at first, but as I looked closer…they had a _violet_ tint to them. It was the strangest thing I'd seen…since Zarolslav. But that was irrelevant as she went on.

It was unbelievable that she knew this much about me and my family. Now, my parents had worked with government officials, but despite the fact she introduced herself as _Helena Sorenson, Executive of Military Personnel Affairs for Hephaestus Corporation_. I was confused because she talked more like a government agent than the empty suit for a weapons company, the same corporation that invented those fancy suits Power Recon wore.

But the fact she knew my parents so well…

I could only respond, "Wow. I guess everyone's going to know before long."

"Well, it was inevitable that people would find out. No one can keep a secret anymore…even those who are good at it."

"What do you do here anyway?"

"I do work the Hephaestus Corporation, but I'm also a liaison to the PW Division about this virus. That's the reason we set up this forward shock trauma unit. We transferred everyone who'd been infected to this facility. Certain people who worked for my company started all this. But that's all I can tell you."

_Dr. Victoria and Raul Glass. They fled unfortunately. They knew about the monster they'd created._

That was shocking. What did this Dr. Glass know? What really happened back then? It was all too confusing.

"Then who was that other doctor guy, then?" I asked. I wondered about the fourth person in on this situation.; the man who wanted me to be a part of a _cockamamie plan_ as so eloquently described by the woman in front of me.

"Oh, _Raji_," said Sorenson with a scowl, "he's a man who only believes in the letter of the law. He believes the ends justifies the means is the only way to live life."

"Why is the enemy so obsessed with us?"

"I'm sure you already know and your brother does as well, to an extent."

"I wonder if Brandon knows I'm laid out, that I'm down for the count."

"Probably not. He has more important fish to fry. They're clearing the central areas in the Jilachi desert. They're just about 28 kilometers south of an oil field held by elite Dogmen troops…the Soma call them Wolf Knights or something."

"How did you know that?"

"Ways and means."

My brother was in the thick of the _real _war, as some called it. Jilachi was a deadly place. The Soma engaged in hourly battles with Loyalist soldiers and our own. The war was taking longer than most people thought it would. Then she went into what went on at home. It was disturbing. Protests, death, destruction, controversy about the war…it was a total mess. I couldn't believe what was going on in the nation's capital. Then again, Cinigrad was probably a million times worse.

Apart from that, the more Sorenson talked, the more I liked her. She seemed like the kind of person who knew a lot but didn't patronize people. She was kinda pretty for a Middle Osean woman in her late thirties. 'Course, I'd been to the Ozark region and well, let's just say that the women after thirty should have received federal funding for plastic surgery. But there was one nagging question in the middle of it all, a poison inside of me. I shouldn't have wondered it, but I asked her anyway. She said that they brought everyone infected with the virus to this medical station. I'd heard that Rico had been exposed and had been suffering from the effects of the virus. There was that part of me that had to know.

"Is…there…is there a Rico Lazarus here?"

"Oh, that's right. Yes, he is. You two were in a relationship, correct?"

"How did you know that?"

"Skills."

I should have suspected it. Maybe my brother mentioned it to her. Of course, the way she talked about my bro, you'd have thought they were good friends. Where did that come from?

"Stop that. Are you working for the government or something?"

"I did at one point. I have a lot of friends on Bright Hill."

That didn't surprise me at all. There were a lot of nagging emotions in me then.

"There's a part of me that's thankful to be alive. But there's a part where I wish I was out there though. At least…for Xanthia's sake."

I looked to my left again and Sorenson looked rather somber when I said that. _Did she know too?_

Sorenson continued, "Women should be on the frontlines. But it has nothing to do with fairness and feminism. Women know when things have gone too far. Men never know when to stop. Sometimes, that's a good thing…case in point, your brother. However, most of the time…it just creates tragedy. Then again, so does the will to act. That's why war is terrible. Stubbornness crashes against determination. In the end, no one truly wins. Something always gives."

"You sound like my mom."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "The greatest skill a warrior can have is not that which kills, but which yields."

For the first time in awhile, I laughed. "That _definitely_ sounds like my mom."

"My father told me that before I entered Annapolis."

Ex-government. Ex-military too. Ex-commissioned officer. That surprised me more. There was nothing to indicate she was ex-military.

"What was that like?" I asked. My face lit up. I was very curious about her military career. I hated most officers, but Sorenson was likable. She must have been that way when she wore the bars.

"It was really fun." She said with a slight chuckle, "It was much more fulfilling than I thought it would be. I even saw a little action during the Versuan Oil Crisis. War is my business, but not of me. I actually hate war sometimes."

Now that _really_ shocked me.

She continued, "Most people think I'm no authority to voice an opinion on war. Your mother's view, while flawed, is a valid opinion. Ironic, no? But she fought, she put her life on the line, and she and every other soldier gets an opinion…and not some asshole liberal in Oured who burns things to make a point."

Sorenson took her hand off my shoulder and I stunned me a bit because I forgot it was there. She got up and left the room, her black heels clicking across the white tile.

This executive projected much more than intelligence. Her decisions probably often made her associates and subordinates angry. I guessed there was a method to the madness. I imagined she was the person who always stayed on her Queue, always communicating, always changing plans, always ready to improvise.

She could have been the forty year old female version of a certain Brandon Lovecraft.

After all, Helena Sorenson seemed like the kind of woman who always knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

***

Exactly ten minutes after she left, I got the surprise of a lifetime. The mercenary guards who'd been with Kaida had long since gone. I was alone, uncaring of my situation. I could wonder about Xanthia's family and the immense pain they were in as I dealt with the same inside a soul that was black with depression.

But speaking of a black hole of depression, enter Rico Lazarus. Out of the goddamn blue. I knew he was here, but I pushed it to the back of my mind. I didn't want anything to do with Rico Lazarus. Dina Gaudes wanted me to get away from him. My father had his doubts about him. Lillian knew about him after some digging of her own. Chapman knew…

I ignored them all for weeks, and when I finally freed myself of him, or so I thought, there would be no more contact with him. I wanted to cut my ties with him as quickly as I could. Out of sight, out of mind. He was right in front of me. He didn't have one of the hospital sets of clothing on like I did. He was tall and long, the same physical reasons I fell for him. He was ripped but he walked nervously. He swayed his body a little. His brown hair was tousled. I wasn't sure at the time, but something was seriously wrong with this picture.

"Hello, Tasha." He said. He closed the door behind him.

"What? How did you get in here?"

"Thought I'd go for a little stroll. All those psychoanalysis sessions wore me out."

"What happened to you anyway?" I asked him.

"Took a mortar round, cracked my helmet glass and got a full on blast of that special Soma aroma, if you know what I mean."

"In a sense." I said.

"But as usual, your brother always lucks out better than I did."

I knew then my brother had suffered from the virus exposure, but whatever Rhombus count swam in his veins had countered it. Sorenson had mentioned it when she told me about the extended conversation he had with her.

"It's too bad your friends can't say the same thing. Or you for that matter…that is, assuming you take the Dina thing into account."

He laughed, "I got your little…letter." He tossed a crumpled up piece of paper right at me.

I tossed it back him.

"I bet you were _so_ heartbroken." I said, adding an extra little acid, "Maybe next time you won't hide stuff like that from your girl of choice. But then again, you never changed anyway."

"Funny you should make that assumption. Of course, it'd only be an _assumption_…if it wasn't true."

"So my instincts were correct."

"I'm just curious…who told you? Was it that bitch?"

"She did. _That bitch_ wrote me a letter. I gave it to Charles and Jason. You _really_ should have been there…it was priceless. I scared the hell out of them. It was one for the ages…"

Near my hospital bed, there was a small silver table. The table was similar to the one I saw at every doctor or dentist's office. On the table were usually a few instruments like an orothascope or whatever the hell it was called. Maybe there were tweezers; maybe there was a tiny flashlight or something. But the one instrument that stood out was the scalpel. The scalpel had several different configurations. There were at least a dozen numbered varieties. The number depended upon whatever cut was needed to be made. Scalpels were used in more than just doctor's offices. The typical usage for such a device was in art: the X-Acto knife. It could also be used as a weapon. But like all weapons, they were a necessary evil. They could be used for good or evil.

"You women are so funny. You people think you're slick. All you do is tease us. When we do want it, you're never ready…but you get mad when we're not on your schedule. You want everything done for you and everything has to be done on _your_ terms. That's the reason why I didn't want to stay with you. I thought you were different. But in the end, you were just like all the other girls out there."

I chuckled at him. How misguided was he to believe that I wanted to control a man, much less every woman. Sure we were manipulative sometimes, but to suggest we were all evil bitches was fallacious on an impossible level.

"Except Dulcinea. She was the one who got away."

"Now that's she knocked up by your closet homo Brandon, my last chance went out the window."

Homosexual jokes were much more common among line companies than rear echelon people like me. _Something silly about Alpha Male dominance_, my mother said. I knew Brandon had been called that many times, but he never let it get to him. That was probably why I couldn't stand it when Carile was treated the way she was.

"You never cared about me? Fine, that means we technically never went out. That means I can go hook up with some guy in Belka because we never happened. Maybe Xanthia's brother would like me. But she's dead…and I can't go for her opinion anymore!"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. I never liked her anyway. She was such a phony…just like your brother."

I turned purple in the face. I knew it because I saw my reflection in the mirror. Throwing a small glass at him, "You can talk about my brother all you want…but you will _not_ talk about Xanthia like that!"

The glass shattered against the wall but Rico was unfazed.

"Forget them. Your brother's going to end up as dead as your friend was."

"What?"

"That guy wants things the hard way. He chose this life. To be honest, I actually enjoyed killing. It made all those months and years of slaving in the Corps worth it. But all the other stuff…I wanted no part of…and yet I did it anyway because I had no choice."

"Well, don't choose to rape innocent women."

"_Please_. There _are_ no innocent women. You all want everything. When you get divorced, you want everything…even if it was your fault."

"Gimme a break."

"I saw it all the time in November City. Just because you and your parents lived in that crappy house in Alaska and had the perfect family life doesn't mean I don't know what's going down."

"You were rich. Of course you saw it. Your mother was an evil bitch for what she did. My mother would have never done that. It would have never occurred to her. "

"Evil has its benefits."

"Ah, but you hated the Corps. You got out of jail, but you ended up in a place you hated. Isn't that the perfect poetic justice?"

"I should have done my time. At least I'd get to sleep at a decent hour. In prison, you don't have training sessions at five in the morning with dumbass officers and senior NCOs yelling at you because you did port arms instead of shoulder arms in drill, or the plastic explosive was four seconds off, or your shirttails are untucked a little in the rear."

Rico stared at me with cold eyes.

"Now Brandon, he lives for this stuff. He's an idiot. I couldn't put up with it. I kept getting rolled back and ended up in your brother's company back in Recon Training. For your brother, the Corps was his dream. For me, it was a nightmare."

"Why do you keep insulting my brother? Why? Is it because you know you're only half the man he is, if _that_? Is it Dulcinea? Or is it you have to tear down my bro to overcompensate for a lack of depth in a _certain_ area? That insecurity surprises me. I mean, _that_ was something that was never a concern for me because I liked you for you who said you were…and not who you _actually_ were."

"What did your parents teach you that? You know…liking people because they have a good personality?"

"Rico, what happened to you? Why are you this way? What happened?"

Rico turned his head and looked to the left…right at the table. And on that table was a scalpel. He picked it up and waved it around.

"You know how easy it is to kill someone?"

"What?"

"All it takes is the flick of knife against a wrist or a windpipe, or maybe a stab to the heart or the back, or even a gunshot to the head or the femoral artery."

"Uh…okay. What are you talking about?"

"Killing is an art form perfected by those who are trained in death. It was the only thing that got me through this endless, ridiculous cycle known as the Marines."

"I love death. It purifies life. It makes you grateful to have your own. It gives us freedom."

He approached me and held the knife towards my face. My blood was icy and I couldn't breathe at all for a minute. Was he really going to kill me?

"Rico, you're freaking me out." I struggled to say.

"Imagine how easy it would be to kill you; to slit your throat and let your blood stain the sheets."

"Rico…get away from me." I said forcefully. And just like that, Rico pulled the blade away and laughed.

"Relax. I'm not going to kill you, Tash. You take these things too personally." He said.

I gave him a furious look, "I don't know…I tend to take people who threaten to murder me _very_ seriously."

"No, you're just lucky. But there's no way out for any of us. You know, I wonder what would happen if the Soma themselves were exposed to the very gas they used against us. I'd hump the shit myself. Thirty million people gone, the war's over, and I'll be free."

I only had a quick response to that, "It wouldn't solve your problems. You'd still be a soldier against your will. But then again, you made the choice to join."

Rico turned the silver table over and turned back to me, his face filled with fire hot rage, "I really hope that Sueltana shows up in a body bag…and your brother too!"

I was too shocked to even speak. I couldn't even believe he'd say something like that.

It was one thing he was unrepentant of his past actions. But in a few days, he'd completely changed his demeanor…not just that, but the way he thought about everything. He'd from the pretty boy, upper crust, spoiled but wonderful guy I met weeks ago to the pretty boy, upper crust, spoiled, convicted would-be felon and accused rapist.

Rico had turned into a psychopath. Even angry people, at least normal angry people, didn't say things like: _I hope you and your sister die horrible deaths_. The way he walked, the way he talked, none of it added up. He'd gone crazy.

"You know why? Because are only two kinds of people on the battlefield: the dead and the killers. Everyone I know who claimed to be a hero in my company has killed. Every soldier is a hero. The soldier's job is to kill. Therefore, they are all killers."

_What happened to him_, I wondered. Was it really the virus…or was it the war? Or was it a combination of the two? Or was it something deep inside, a cancer from the past (Dina Gaudes notwithstanding), a black festering mess inside that rotted his soul to nothing?

I knew enough about Rico on my end. The only thing I didn't know was what _Brandon_ knew about him. I assumed he didn't know about Rico's horrible judgment in the past. Brandon did, on the other hand, knew a lot more about Rico in the squad than I ever did. But even then, it spoke volumes about his character. After all, Willie Chapman was the only one who knew and it was Chapman who dug into the past and started the entire deconstruction of our relationship…and to _that_, I owed him a great deal of thanks.

But in the end, I was the one at fault. I chose to believe the lies and hide us from everyone.

Regardless of that, something had happened between eh time I hugged him in Bethlehem Park and the few minutes he talked about slitting my throat.

I had no sympathy for him. He was angry at the choices he made, but not because it harmed the _other_ people it did, but the most important person it did: Rico himself. It was obviously not behavior to suggest war had changed him. It was probably something that made everything inside him worse. It was always there.

For me though, our relationship was nothing like that. It was always a tiny ember, an insignificant piece of sand, a star that burned too bright and faded into nothing. It was a fire that never burned at all. In other words, it was just absurdity.

"That's the worst syllogism I've ever heard in my life." I heard Sorenson's voice said.

Sorenson walked in with another man in a white lab coat and beige clothing. He was the exact opposite of Kaida in terms of looks. The obvious scientist was a little disheveled. He was a heavy set man but he carried himself with an air of decorum that I'd never seen from any fat person ever. It was almost embarrassing to watch. I assumed this must have been the Dr. Raji character.

However, Rico wasn't impressed with this at all. He picked up the scalpel again.

"Who the hell are you?" he said.

Sorenson responded in an angry voice, something I hadn't seen during our brief time together, "I'm the queen, it doesn't matter. You're taking up valuable time with my associate here."

"What are you a lawyer?" Rico said.

Rico pointed the scalpel at Sorenson. I couldn't move, but I was scared to death of what Rico could have done. He was already out of his mind, and it could have turned ugly fast. However, the executive simply smiled at him as he got closer. As Rico got closer, he waved the scalpel as if he were a child playing with a stick. My stance relaxed a bit once I realized he was probably screwing around. Obviously, Sorenson did not get that message.

One of Rico's slashes came a little too close to her head. As he did, Sorenson bobbed her head to the left and Rico followed it with his hand. I saw it and thought it interesting that he said _flick of the wrist_, because Sorenson grabbed _his_ with her left hand. She slammed it into the wall. Rico continued to attack her, but when he made a lunge forward, she slid around his back in a spin that only a professional football or basketball player could do. No, it was even faster than that, because as I saw her do this, Rico was on the ground. She'd spun around to his back, grabbed the same arm he used to thrust the knife and with a strength I didn't think she had…she slammed his head into the wall. She picked up the scalpel, finally on the floor, and stood at a rather strangely arrogant, intimidating posture for someone in a business pantsuit.

Rico looked up as MPs rushed in. His head was bleeding. His face and eyes scrunched in obvious pain. I was speechless.

"No, I'm just a hero in a blazer." She said, pointing the scalpel back in Rico's face.

The MPs took him into custody. And by _custody_, I meant the guys slamming him around even more than Sorenson did. I imagined he was probably _wishing_ Sorenson had finished kicking his ass.

"You're no company stooge. My mom dated guys who could do stuff like that…ex-Secret Service people, mercenaries, etc." Rico said, grimacing.

"Well, take a guess." Sorenson said.

He was in complete shock and I was as well. After all, Sorenson couldn't have been more than 140 pounds. She was pretty tall for a woman, about as tall as Xanthia was. But Rico was twenty pounds heavier than Brandon and was slightly taller than he was. 230 against 140 shouldn't have been a contest. But she manhandled him with a speed I'd never seen before. Or had I? Because of her months of prolonged exposure to Seelow Rot, Ivanava was much faster than the average human. And stronger; I still had the light contusions from when she punched me in the stomach…_six days ago_. But she and I were of similar weights. There was only a thirty pound difference between us.

The fat Dr. Raji spoke to Sorenson as she was about to leave the room herself. It was strange. She didn't even ask if I was alright.

He said, "I had a feeling you weren't just some empty suit for H Corporation. So who are you really working for?"

Sorenson snapped back, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Now it was fully clear that Sorenson wasn't all who she said she was. So I asked, "Wait, why are you so interested in me and Brandon?"

Sorenson spun on her heel and pointed at both her eyes with a wave of her index finger. "Let's just say that you and I have a lot more in common than you think."

Her eyes._ Of course!_ Just as Zarolslav had said, _I'd changed. My eyes changed color from green to blue…_

But it couldn't be the case. Zarolslav got her mutation from months of extended, forced contact with the virus. But then again…Ivanava had said that the Rhombus Gene, _manifested itself in many ways._ Was Sorenson a carrier too? If that were the case, why wasn't the enemy after her as well? What was going on?

After the MPs hauled Rico from the room, Raji moved to cut off Sorenson before she herself could leave.

"Who are you really working for, Sorenson!? I should have suspected something a long time ago!" Raji said.

"Ah, that's the real question isn't it?" Helena said, turning her back to me and walking out of the room, "But, you won't find out now. I can…assuming the war ends. But not right now…because if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Sorenson turned and left the room. Raji then turned from me, his fist clenched, his head shook ever slightly and I could hear a hiss or some other angry guttural sound from his throat.

"Insufferable bitch." He said.

I was a little upset at that point, "At least _someone_ knows what's going on."

Raji turned on his heel, as if he had a gun and were in a classic duel. But it looked kind of silly for someone of his size to do, "And what do you know little girl? Your senses have made you bold."

"What?" I said. It was sort of playing dumb, I knew what he meant by senses, but why would he bring it up?

"I know exactly what's going on with you. You have the power to save many lives within your blood." He said. But I could see he was sweating a little.

His voice was both angry and pleading at the same time. It seemed his demeanor hadn't changed since he talked to Sorenson. This spoke volumes about him. It was clear that he wanted action, but he came off as desperate and weak. It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself something that he knew wasn't true.

"Look, I don't know you and I don't care about saving the world…I just want to survive and go home. I just want my siblings to live. We're overseas risking our necks to bail you guys out." I said.

He pointed right at me, "With all the power, you wish to do nothing? If that's true, then there will be nothing but blood on your hands."

It all seemed preachy. There was just something about him that seemed…off. His heart was in the right place, but it didn't seem genuine. There was something fishy about Raji. It was the exact same feeling I got with Kaida and Sorenson.

"What are you talking about? I'm really just a truck driver, okay? I'm not into dreams of saving everyone, okay?"

"You Oseans are never concerned about anyone else but yourselves. But you'll see. You'll understand exactly what I mean."

Raji, evil banter aside, walked out of the room. Ivanava walked into the room and Raji pushed her aside in anger. Ivanava let him know how she felt with a certain finger then walked over to me and sat down on my bed.

"What the hell was he talking about?" I asked. The question was more towards me than Izzy, as I started calling Ivanava.

"Ends and means." Izzy replied, "He's so obsessed with saving his own people he can't see the forest from the trees."

"Why do you guys hate him so much? He is trying to save people. I just don't see what me or Brandon has to do with it."

"No…he's got his own agenda. Just like me, just like Sorenson, just like Kaida…everybody's got an agenda. Believe me, Raji's no hero."

Izzy moved in closer to me, "Kaida may think heroes are self-sacrificing preachy fairy tales, but you know what? Heroes survive because they live by the strength of their convictions. I think your brother's going to do just fine. But Raji…he has no true convictions."

"Why do you say that?"

Zarolslav leaned in close to me, she was so close her nose brushed the side of my cheek. "Can you keep a secret?"

"What the hell do you think? All I've been doing is keeping secrets." I said in a whisper.

Zarolslav crawled onto the bed and lay beside me, but at that point there was nothing even remotely awkward or extraordinary about this woman's behavior. I'd finally accepted that Ivanava was merely the Yuke clone of Lillian Izzo. Her head was right next to mine, but I didn't look into her face. Her lips were right beside my ears and into them she whispered whatever secret she wanted me to hold.

"Raji wants to use everyone with the Rhombus Gene, you remember that? He wants to make enough of the antivirus to inoculate a large area."

"What's the catch?"

"It took me a few hours to do the math but to manufacture an antivirus to cover the entire country by square mile would take at _least_ one hundred million times the standard squared density of the human blood. The actual virus mixture doesn't linger in the air that long so it's impossible to use the jet stream."

Finally, I turned my head to her. I was staring right into those deep sea irises. At this point, she could have done anything to me and I wouldn't have cared. She had a smile on her face and continued to rub her finger down my new lock of hair. I still couldn't put a finger on that, but I was fully sure the RG or whatever had something to do with it.

"But Raji thinks he's slick. He claimed that you'd need 10.4 million kilograms per grid kilometer of aerial antivirus solution. This morning, I double-checked his bullshit calculus and he really only calculated an area of 1.4 million kilograms per grid kilometer. That's only enough to cover _420,000_ square kilometers. It's about the size of Hollywood district back in your homeland. Not exactly enough to cover the country obviously."

I was terrible at math, but I knew the obvious. Raji did all those calculations and hard, detailed research in his ass.

"I thought scientists were supposed to be good at math and shit." I said.

"You're right, but I couldn't merely dismiss it as gross negligence. A thief can't fool a thief and a scientist can't fool a scientist. You know what else is equal to 420,000 square kilometers?"

"No." I said it softly, but I could even barely hear my own voice.

Zarolslav laughed bitterly, "It's the entire Southern area of the Hazri Highlands, a population of about twenty million people. You wouldn't know it from the outside…but Raji's a Jaair Yuke."

"You're kidding me." I said, shocked and much louder than before. My eyes bulged.

"Nope," popping her lips on the _P_ yet again. Ivanava snorted and furrowed her brow. "Like I said…agendas."

Next Chapter: Into the Fire


	22. Into the Fire

Chapter 22: Into the Fire

_November 26, 2010 - "…and then I saw flames from the oil fields. The Airborne rushed into the fields and captured the towers of bellowing smoke. I wondered what they hoped to capture. There was nothing left except the flames of our mechanical rage. There was only smoke and fire where there was once industry. That's the way it always ends in war. The casualties are not only human lives…but everything their hands created. Chopper said that in the end, everything becomes a hulk of nothing. His thoughts were somewhat out of place with who he is. Ironic that you can't think about death when you're inflicting it, when all you're surrounded with on a battlefield __**is**__ death."_

**Brandon**

**September 11, 2037**

**Lower Crasia, Jilachi Desert**

**0643 hrs**

Crasia was where it went down. One of two tangential maneuvers from Operation Desert Blitz in 2010: Operation Desert Lighting. This was the place my parents flew over. This was the place many infantry troops of all branches looked up and saw my parents, their friends fly over. They witnessed the truth birth of the Razgriz legend. And with a great sigh, the Army could relax for just a few moments and enjoy a piece of fleeting invincibility. It was here where the Jilachi Desert changed. The icy sands of the southern plains were flushed away and time and topography gave way to the golden blood sands of the Lower and Upper Crasia Basin. The place had many names. The Tatars and the Hazri, who called the desert two different names, had fought here centuries ago over this natural wasteland.

We were only 180 miles from the edge of the Hazri Highlands, over 600,000 square miles of hostility and ancient history. It was shorter to travel from Toreno to Cara's Cove.

Morrison told us point blank that if the entire Osean military was going strike a major blow against the Hazri, this was where it would happen.

The war had become a machine. Captain Morrison briefed us on the new strategy from High Command. The entire military's tempo was to increase. Now we'd never stop charging. No more longer visits to the small towns and common folk. No more hour long violin serenades. No more stopping to secure towns for the rear echelon.

Or so we thought for the first 24 hours.

It seemed someone up at High Command didn't do their homework on the army's logistical situation, or at least that was what Dickerson said. Fresher units had to be brought up. The Soma had counterattacked along the eastern side of the Allied lines. In the distance, we heard the sounds of blasts, the roar of tanks and their guns laying into the enemy and the Hazri replying in kind. But where we were at the moment, it was all quiet.

The silence was even more unsettling than the seventeen hours we spent getting shot at by Hazri insurgents and Dogmen infiltrators as they attacked all up and down the MSR. They knew we were coming. We were uncertain how many we killed, but we didn't lose anybody this time.

The mood had been soured even more than normal. It had little to do with Walter Snow's death or the fact Special Forces had the UWS suits for months before we did, thus defeating the purpose of their elite existence in _their_ eyes. That would have held true for me if I was still fifteen years old and in awe of the UW apparatus.

I thought it had more to do with the present: the constant ambushes, the relentless enemy we killed again and again…and they still came back like ants from the colony. Subsequently, there was the overall reason why these serious inconveniences occurred: you know…the daily murderers' row of missions given from Division to our undermanned company. But it didn't surprise many of us anymore. The old guys in our company, Alphonso, Teller and Sheckenhousen, kept a level head and tried to keep our morale up. I was glad to see Sergeant Teller doing what he should have done for me back in Dajul…you know, acting like the goddamn leader he was supposed to be; as opposed to cutting me down with the others with a gang mentality.

Alphonso hadn't changed much since we first set boots on the ground. He did talk to me about Kate's sister trying to get rid of some old baby stuff. Of course, the last thing I needed was charity from Delores. Of course, Delores was the female version of Walter Snow. She was always drunk, always in trouble, two disastrous marriages by 25, and the reason she was trying to get rid of her baby accessories was the fact she'd lost custody of her kids and put one for adoption. A train wreck by any other name...

But as we sat around waiting for the next mission or whatever the hell Division decided we'd do, Alphonso had made his own breakfast tradition, which was really wasn't a tradition at all. It was just a bunch of guys sitting around, eating MREs and Alphonso telling some ancient story. The battles on the horizon had settled down and a rare, cool wind blew over the desert floor. The breeze was light. The eastern sun had created a divided sky of bright purple and blood orange. I hated to say it, but there was one benefit to Walter Snow's untimely death.

There was one less person to tell Alphonso to shut up whenever he told his stories. People with common sense listened when Alphonso Adair talked. He seemed to know everything about the Hazri. Of course, by now everyone in the company knew that he was a Hazri by birth. However, by Day 21 of this war, no one really cared about anyone's nationality anymore.

Cameron, Willie, Tristian, Micho, and I were in a circle as we each talked about the first time we lost our virginity. However, to the left of us, there was Dickerson, Morrison, Riba, and oddly…Frost. They were in a circle and they were clearly in some disagreement. Their motions were back towards Frost, but Dickerson was angry at Morrison and Frost for some reason. I thought Frost was up at Battalion, and I wondered what in the heck he was doing in our neck of the woods.

"What the hell are they arguing about?" I said.

"I don't know. Don't care really. So anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah. I'm trying to get Rachel's dress off, but the zipper in the back is stuck. I'm struggling to get it off and she gets frustrated so she tries it and…"

"Micho please. You've told me this about twenty times. It's an overrated story." I said.

"You never did finish telling me about _your_ first time." Micho shot back.

"Yeah, what really happened between you and Dulcinea?" Cameron added.

I usually didn't talk about bedroom shenanigans with the other guys. It was hard enough talking to my parents about such things, much less Tasha (though Tasha was more curious since she didn't lose her virginity until a few weeks prior to the war). But there were a few unwritten but indisputable laws about the Marine Corps. One of them was this: even if you were a faithful, level headed guy with good values and a decent heart…you eventually ended up talking about sex at some point.

The way I talked about it was simple. Micho and I kept our most filthy secrets about us and Dulcinea and Rachel to ourselves. (And no, I can't tell you about it. Micho and I signed a pact in blood about that...sort of) The story Micho told was actually a much edited version of what _really_ happened on his honeymoon with Rachel. (Again, I can't reveal any of it you.)

"No, that was back when I was in high school you idiot. Me and my girl…it's been about…" I said.

"You've known each other a year so…I'd say about 37 times." Micho added. _Bastard_, I thought. He knew me too well.

"38. Forgot the first day we met." I said. I slapped hands with Micho.

"See, I know you buddy. I don't even have to know the exact info."

Even Cameron was impressed. He sat back, his eyes bulged and there was a huge smile on his face.

"Dude, you're the man." he said.

"I told you Cameron. Bree's got nothing on Dulcinea, I can guarantee-damn-tee that." Micho spoke for me.

"So who was your first anyway?" Cameron asked me.

Again, I really didin't talk about such things with other people. But then again, I liked the little stroke for my ego. "You're not going to believe it, but it was this Goth chick named Rebecca Harding."

There was a combined look of shock, disgust and humor on Cameron's face. He held it for nearly fifteen seconds. Micho burst into laughter.

"Really? Dude, you can do better than a Goth chick." said Cameron.

"She was nice. It just happened. You remember, Micho…it was at Johnny's Halloween Party and we played Six Minutes in Heaven. We all went as vampires, remember that?"

Ah, the old Six Minutes in Heaven game. There were many different versions of this teenage game. First, a game of spin the bottle was played. But instead of kissing whoever the open bottle pointed to in the _open_, you would take the person into a closet nearby and had six minutes to....pretty much whatever you wanted to do. The only rules were that it had to land on a member of the opposite sex (unless the person spinning the bottle was gay, then all bets were off) and secondly, you could never say what you and your partner did. And let me tell you, it was amazing what you could do in six minutes. But you always wanted to be the last one in.

"Yeah, that was a great party. You were the last ones though, so it was more like _sixteen_ minutes."

I could resist a chuckle. "She didn't want to be my girlfriend though. Becca thought I thought she wouldn't be her type. But, I'm still friends with her."

"Isn't she in college?"

"Yeah, Providence University for graphic design. She didn't want to go to Bana City. It wasn't dreary and depressing enough."

We all laughed. A few meters away, Alphonso had been fooling with his makeshift coffeemaker he salvaged in some town yesterday. He'd taken some of the canteen cups from us and poured coffee into them.

"Hold what you got, men. I have a little treat for you," Alphonso said as he handed us each a cup of steaming liquid. "My special brew ready for you guys."

"What is this? Doesn't smell like coffee." Micho said as he held his cup to his nose.

Alphonso had a salesman's smile on his face, "A little mixture of tea, coffee beans, sugar, some herbs, a little pepper, some creamer packets."

Most of us just shrugged.

"Ah, what the hell? Couldn't be any worse than the crap they give us in the MRE packages." Chapman said.

"Wow, this is pretty good." I said as I took a swill.

"Thank me in a few hours when you're still alert. My mom drinks this stuff all the time. Her own family recipe."

Alphonso sat down next to us in the crater hole. The wise pastor of the Jilachi Desert began his sermon…or whatever you wanted to call it.

"I was thinking about this desert. Beneath our feet are the remains of over 1300 years of war. Well, that and all the _relics_ from the last war."

He pointed over to our right. I'd noticed it before. It was the burned out hulk of an M1A1 Abrams tank. I think Willie noted that it was strange the older Abrams models seemed clunky and inefficient compared to the new model. The tank's right treads had been blown away and the turret was completely ajar, as if it were the top taken off a can of peas. It wasn't a tank that destroyed it…it was probably a strike missile from an enemy plane, a Yuke version of the Maverick missile. They sliced through the top of the armor, the weakest part of the tank…a brutal way to kill a crew. One thing my father said, it was impossible to notice the human toll of war at Mach 1.

Tasha had a dream where she was trapped inside a sinking submarine. We were ten years old. Walt came over and started practicing wrestling moves he saw on TV…on me. Of course, like he always did, he underestimated my ability to fight back. To equalize the situation, Walt climbed on my bed and jumped off like he was on the top rope…but forgot about the ceiling fan above. He cracked his head and fell on my bed, breaking the front post off and tearing it apart (it seemed unbelievable, but I was there). Walt needed seventeen stitches in his head, but that wasn't important.

Since Tasha and I slept in the same room, we had no problem sleeping in the same bed…although I had to do some serious negotiation with my sister about the pink sheets she had. Twin sister or not, pink sheets were a no go. However, we arrived at an interesting compromise. We just used red ones.

It was the night after when Tasha had that terrible dream. She woke up, screaming and crying. She frantically tried to dry herself off as she thought she was still underwater. Oddly, Tasha wasn't _afraid_ of water. She was just afraid of drowning. It wasn't until years later, when my dad told me about the horrors of war that he brought up that dream. It seemed fitting, in a twisted sense, that many tank died like that…enclosed in a tight space surrounded by a crushing, deadly thing. In their case it was fire. However, as I thought about it, their deaths were instantaneous. It didn't make their families feel better.

"Our war is the result of 1,300 years of pent up hatred by the Hazri's so-called religious right. The High Priests or the _Sharzibe_, are the real rulers of the Hazri and Jaair Yukes. The Hazri claim their laws came from the great mountain of Merkava, the place upon where their capital city is built and fourteen disciples who followed the great Levi of Haba, the grandfather of Ephesus, who later wrote the great book of the Hazri. As such, there are fourteen High Priests. Musharak was one of these before he became the _Shezuar Sharzibe_, the Grand Master of the Faith…"

Alphonso continued on and as he did, I thought about Helena Sorenson. She'd said her father was in the famous Ferdelance Armored Brigade. I thought it was ironic that the Brigade's emblem was a lion, yet according to Wash, the Fer-de-lance was actually a snake. My life or rather my _war_, would have been much different if her father had died while in the line of duty. Of course, that would have held weight only if she had been born _after_ the war ended.

"In the old days, the High Priests were also the great military leaders. Saladus and Ricah, Telamachus, Malachi and Rasmes…they were the Hazri's doomed heroes of those terrible wars from the old days. I was thinking about this Seelow Rot virus. All roads seemed to lead to Cinigrad." Alphonso said.

"Why do you say that?" Cameron asked.

"After the Hazri were defeated in 700 A.D., there wasn't a uniform end to the war; there were still conflicts for at least thirty years after the original battle of Crasia. The Hazri had their asses handed to them in that one. Then, there was the war for Cinigrad…which was called Masada in those days. It was held by a Hazri priest named Saladus. David, the Tatarian general, led a campaign against them and defeated them with a much smaller force."

"Ah, the _Mininites, _the precursor to the Special Forces_._" Micho said.

"Yeah, well, after that, he and his warriors were supposedly given the land by God according to Catholic version of that story."

"Yeah, I remember that story. David pulled the jerk move of all jerk moves when built a temple to God called Golgotha in the middle of Masada. That had to tick the Hazri off, right?" I said.

"Exactly. By the time the temple was finished, David had died of old age. His sons had died during the wars defending the city from Hazri attack and all he had left was his daughter, Cari-Shiva of Golgotha. His wife had died years earlier, about ten years after his daughter was born. The Cardinals, the Catholic version of the High Priests, weren't as bothered about having a woman in charge. They saw it as a sign from God, so the story goes."

"Wait…Cari-Shiva? That's not a Catholic sounding name." Cameron said.

"Of course not. David did offer amnesty to the Hazri who chose to stay in the city, as long as they converted to Catholicism. The rest were banished from the City of God."

That meant David took a Hazri wife, the irony of all ironies given the entire story of Cari-Shiva of Golgotha. I knew some of the story. My father told me a little about the ancient histories. We weren't church goers, but my dad knew enough about the religious stuff.

"As she was the so-called savior of the city, she was brought up to be just that through training. She was trained by the Mininites."

"So for all intents and purposes…this Cari-Shiva was the first female special forces operative, correct?" I said. I sipped a little more of the coffee.

"Pretty much. She trained until she was seventeen. Now about a thousand miles away, there was the grandson of Saladus, Telemachus. Now remember, the High Priests had a lot of influence over the Hazri culture. Telemachus was kind of like the Hazri version of Vincent Harling. He wanted to end the wars. He was ahead of his time, a forward thinker. His advisor was Ephesus, the prophet who wrote the great books. And pacifism was just something the old man just didn't want to hear."

"Wasn't Telemachus interested in the Tatars anyway? Didn't he try to negotiate with them?" Micho asked.

"At first he did, but the priests found out and they were ticked. They were old school. In those days, the crazier and dogmatic side usually won. Ephesus and the priests wanted revenge against the Tatars. Telemachus tried to talk them out of it. He wasn't buying most of Ephesus' work. A lot of people didn't, but it's amazing what you'll believe when people with swords come by and kill your firstborn, throw you a bible and say…believe this or you'll be like your son? Then, _they_ found out about Masada." Alphonso said, whistling as he said it.

Micho continued, "Imagine this, you're a Jaair Yuke, you read the Hazri Scrolls, their bible, and you believe every word of it. You believe that Ephesus and his ministers wrote this in the mountains…when _no one_ was around…and said it came from God."

Cameron added, "Then you show up in Masada and there's a Catholic chapel where your temple used to be and a woman in charge. I'd say…_oh, __**hell**__ no_!"

"Crudely put, but accurate. Telemachus was doubtful, but he was just barely nineteen years old surrounded by a bunch of angry, stubborn religious nuts. Even the Codaka soldiers feared them."

"You're kidding me? I would have gone to town on those guys." I said.

"Would you go against a bunch of men who were allowed by religious law to kill anyone they saw in violation of God? They crucified people in public. They threatened to execute him. I'd say that's a pretty convincing argument for war."

"What happened next?" Tristan continued, finishing his coffee in one long gulp and throwing the cup aside.

"The Tatars knew ahead of time, but the Hazri never gave any formal declarations of anything until the 1800s. Well, the story went that Ephesus's wife sent a message to the Tatars about the war. But typical Catholics, they called it another sign from God. Logistically, the Tatars were screwed. It took three months, but Telemachus and Ephesus rallied an army of up to half a million men. The Tatars only had about 100,000 at best."

"Jesus, two teenagers leading armies into battle…this couldn't _possibly_ go wrong." Tristan added, a goofy smile on his face.

Just as he said that, Morrison came over the radio, "All Assistant TLs and team members rally up at their TL's Victor, over."

Grudgingly, we all walked over to the LT's position. He already had out the map sheet and everything.

"Sorry to interrupt your stories guys, but we've just got a mission." The LT said.

"Is this another movement to incoming fire deal, sir?" Teller said, yawning.

"Yo…dude! Look at this!" Eric shouted from behind us. "Lieutenant…sir? You see that?"

I could see was a plume of smoke, "It's just an explosion."

"No, it's not. It's an oil well. They're lighting up the oil wells." MacGruber said.

I started reading military history books at fourteen or so. I knew quite well that lighting up oil wells was both half-assed and someone brilliant on a depraved level.

I said, "Why is it that every aggressor nation burns their own oil runoff when they're losing?"

"Funny you should mention that." MacGruber continued, sipping the cola through the safe tube on his suit.

The safe tube was a device that was connected to our suits' helmets. It allowed for a Marine to imbibe liquids in a chemical environment. But there was no immediate threat of Seelow Rot for two reasons. One, the enemy did have creative ways of using the bio-chemical agent, but intelligence reported that the Soma most often used more conventional delivery methods like SCUDs or canisters attached to IEDs along the MSRs. But unlike in Versua nineteen years ago, it was much harder to hit a vehicle with an IED with the Maxus tracking system that was standard equipment on all military vehicles, not just the Marines. Second, it seemed the enemy saved the virus for residential areas.

The reasoning must have been alien to the other companies in the regiment or the division. We knew all too well why the Soma would do such a thing.

"We got a bizarre mission. All the air is tied up to the east. The Soma took matches to oil facilities up and down the AO. We got a serious problem on our hands. Oil smoke can be an equalizer in a tense air war we've got going over the desert." said the LT.

Just as he said that, a flight of F-18s, four strong, flew right above us. Their engines shattered the calm of the beautiful morning. They made a gentle turn to their three o'clock and increased their speed as they flew to into the rising sun. My dad would have been a snob about it though. After all, it was unwise for a fighter pilot to fly into the sun. However, circumstances were much different this time. Unlike in the past, we'd been lucky not to have had many encounters with enemy aircraft. (We'd been shadowed by the 4th Marine Air Wing.) The only encounter was the Su-32 encounter in the Baston Forest, the one that nearly killed us and our teenage soldier friends.

"We have orders to seal off one of these oil wells. Usually, planes seal it off by using guided bombs to destroy the wellheads and seal it off."

"Didn't they use those old F-119s for that?" I added smartly. It was a rhetorical question for me, since I knew that from those books I read on the Belkan War.

"Yeah. But like I said, all the air's tied up and will be for the next few hours. We've got to do the job by hand."

There was about a ten second pause before anyone said anything. Teller was the first to speak up. "Sir…we have to go into a burning oil field…and seal it off? Aren't there civvies that do that?"

"Sir, how the hell are we supposed to do that? That stuff burns at hundreds of degrees! We'd catch on fire just standing near it!" Eric said.

"I know what you guys are thinking. Believe me, no one's thrilled about the mission. Captain's calling it a crap mission. We don't have the kind of training for something like this."

"Exactly! Isn't this a mission for fruity environment activists? I'm a death dealing machine, not some oil derrick rough-hand!" Micho said.

MacGruber countered, "Unfortunately, we gotta do it. We're Marines. We obey orders. We're going into the Gubsi Shale area along this MSR, codename MSR Peterman."

I saw the look of worry in his youthful face. But he was worried...

Teller continued, "Sir, orders aside…just how in the hell are we going to do it? Forget the skills; we don't have the resources to shut off a burning wellhead! We barely have enough water for ourselves!"

"Don't worry. Command's figuring out what we're going to do. Just get your gear ready. We're moving out soon."

Everyone slowly began to walk away. I heard the grumbles of disaproval. I didn't like it either. It wasn't the mission, just the lack of a time frame. The entire thing looked disorganized on its face. There was no legitimate argument _for_ the mission made by anyone. Why would they? The entire thing seemed stupid to them. We were a fighting unit. But everyone but me had forgot we were originally coming to this place under the pretense of humanitarian assistance. We were really here to test the suits. However, the humanitarian thing was impossible to ignore. It was a shallow part of it, but it was part of the equation nonetheless.

As we began to get set up, I had finished my brass check when Lieutenant Riba walked up to me.

We really hadn't heard much from Riba lately. Well, we didn't interact with Team Two as much as Team One. Riba was the cheerleader of the officers. Whenever we got down, Riba picked us up. Oddly, I didn't know much about him…but he was the right person that needed to show up. Some wished he'd just stayed and played baseball…but Riba was the guy I needed to see. I just wish he'd have shown up in Dajul.

"You alright?" he said.

"Yeah. I guess." I said. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Well, at least we're doing something heroic." He said.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. "That is true."

Riba's brown eyes stared towards the horizon. He wasn't anything near a Sapinian, even if his name suggested it. Some say he grew up in Hollywood as well in some place called the OC. He certainly didn't look like _that_ either.

"MSR Peterman…sounds like another Ambush Alley."

I hadn't thought about it before, but I _finally_ thought to ask one of the officers; might as well be Riba. "Sir, I'm just curious. Who comes up with the names for these roads?"

Riba laughed, "Some geek Major in the Division S-3 Shop named all the roads in Yuktobania after characters on his favorite TV shows. I would know; he used to be my CO at Wendiwac Bay."

Wendiwac Bay was a Marine base set up after the Belkan War near Anfang. Northern Anfang used to be a beautiful bay. Then the infamous nukes struck the area some twenty miles from it. A dark cloud settled over that world and the wonders of Anfang were erased from history. My grandfather, who had died long before I was born, died of radiation poisoning while on patrol around the Waldreich area. Wendiwac was underground and partially undersea. It was not exactly a vacation spot.

"Well, one problem's settled." I said.

"You hang in there kid. We all gotta believe in something." He said, walking off.

Riba was simple, if not overly excited most of the time. His messages were simple and that was why he was as well liked as Dickerson and Morrison. They communicated their messages in different ways, but they all got their point across. I only wished my sister had met such men. She might have changed her mind on the guys with the bars and oak leaf clusters.

_What the hell was Tasha doing anyway_, I wondered.

***

**1600 hrs**

At some point I realized that I'd gotten used to seeing dead bodies. It was an accepted part of war; it had been drilled into our heads since boot camp that people die. Everybody talked about it at some point, but it was forgotten as quickly as it came. There was no time to sit around and think like you could in the 40s or 50s. As war became faster, Dickerson said, decision times subsequently increased. That was obvious when you thought about it. But like most things, they have to be experienced first.

Death was just accepted. Walt had been dead for less than a day and half and we'd engaged in late night rolling gun battles just three hours after we came back from the rescue mission. There was the long wait, but then we were back at it. However, one does just not waltz into an oil field without the proper tools. Fire extinguishers weren't going to cut it. We needed a special chemical called Solution K. Problem was that the S-4 guys took forever getting the stuff. By the time we rolled out, it was damn near 1400. Vampire took some mortar hits, slowing us up. No casualties were reported. We moved on.

Eric had traded his position on the Harpoon with PFC Wilcox. Why the LT did this, I had no idea. Eric and Teller in the same vehicle had trouble written all over it.

I'd heard through the grapevine that Lillian was going to do an article on me. But what had I done to deserve that kind of praise? Certainly nothing that warranted a column in the _Oured Post Gazette_. The sum of my accomplishments didn't equal the whole. But my father had told me that heroes don't willingly seek praise, they only accept it from others. It was a hard line to straddle sometimes. But Kaida, that jerk, had motivated me to try a new way. I was going to prove him wrong. Heroism and survival could coexist.

The strange thing to everyone else was that Cameron was one of the few who were fired up for the mission. Of course, I'd soured on Hollywood Boy since he'd stabbed me in the back in Dajul. Then again, he _was_ from Hollywood. _Talk about the definition of fair-weather_, I thought. Hollywood was a fast town. You had to sieze an opportunity when it was hot and milk it for all it was worth. The reason was that as quick as Hollywood was to accept new ideas, they were even quicker to bail on the mediocre. Hollywood was like friends: easy to make, easier to lose.

It was no surprise to me that he'd hopped back on the heroism bandwagon. After all, Hollywood always cared about the environment. Oil was an antithesis, a representation of the problems of capitalism. Ironic, since Hollywood had some of the richest people and businesses in Osea…much less the world. The entire city was filled with plastic surgery psychos, fickle movie stars (some of whom had the IQ of paint), and sleazy agents…all claiming they're there to help someone. The irony about Hollywood was that they always made fun of conservatives, yet they themselves were just as greedy and selfish as the right-wing. That's why you could never believe anyone that came from Hollywood. Everyone was of shit. Cameron Craft was no exception. I disliked him even more.

"So, how did that battle end?" he asked Alphonso. "You know…the battle of Masada? The city of God and all that stuff?"

We'd been lucky to avoid any major enemy resistance. Peter wasn't interested because he didn't know what the hell we were talking about.

"Oh, yeah. Where was I?" Alphonso said.

"They were about to go to war." I cut in.

"Okay, so the Tatars were getting ready for a war they were not certain they'd win. But they had to defend the city of God. Much like how we have to seal off an oil well with no mechanical training about such and such a thing."

Oddly, it was MacGruber who chuckled at the comment, then said, "What happened?"

"Well, you have to remember…Cari-Shiva was about seventeen years old. Imagine a _modern_ teenager having to come up with a battle plan to save Cinigrad from the Hazri hordes of the Dark Ages, and oh yeah…you're outnumbered by four to one, outgunned and inexperienced. Let's just say history may have turned out much differently."

Micho burst out laughing, "Yeah, she'd be too busy text-messaging and looking up porn on the internet to care."

Alphonso continued, "Well, by luck…she had a plan. She remembered that there were certain stones used in construction that burned and created a poisonous smoke. And thus began the idea that saved Yuktobania and the entire western world from the Hazri rule for the second time."

We hit a bump in the road and Chapman asked, "What did she do?"

"She ordered every man, woman and child to dig pits in the fields outside of the city. Her soldiers collected all the wax, oil, tar and wood from the surrounding areas. Once the pits were built, her men dropped Black Sabin rocks into them. It was a sort of coal that came from the nearby mountains."

Wash then chimed in, "That stuff is toxic, too."

"Yep. Cari ordered the troops to paint wolves on their shields as derision to the Hazri invaders. And when Telemachus' massive cavalry army arrived, it was deep summer. The winds always blew south in Masada, but the Catholics will have you believe that Cari-Shiva prayed for the winds to turn."

I snorted, "Figures."

"With fire arrows, the Tatars loosed them onto the fields. Telemachus charged and his troops were blinded by the smoke and fire. In the confusion, the horses trampled each other and collided. Men were killed by the poisonous smoke. Needless to say, the attack fell apart. The Tatars caused the confused army to retreat just before darkness hit. Telemachus decided to withdraw and settle the problem diplomatically. Now…"

I didn't see how impatient Demetrius Wash had become, "Dude, can I finish this long-ass story? That Telemachus guy wanted to talk it over, but the High Priests weren't feeling it and capped his ass. They sent his head to the teenage queen. She got pissed off and attacked. They got beat, but the Hazri got cocky. They celebrated too early. The Shiva girl ordered a night attack…and the Hazri were passed out from all the wine."

Wash then made his fingers into a gun and pointed around at everybody, "That Shiva girl and the army walked into the Hazri Camp and went, "Ephesus! Westside!" and they stabbed them all in their sleep. She capped the High Priests…herself. Chopped their heads off and put them on spears. Then she gave Telemachus a Christian burial. End of story. Now can we shut off this oil well and go home?"

Everybody laughed. I wasn't sure about it, but I thought Alphonso laughed the hardest.

"Well, Demetrius' ghetto…revisionist history aside. That's the story in a nutshell. Sad though…if Telemachus had lived…we may not have been at war right now. He was someone who had what the Hazri desperately need now."

"What's that?" Cameron asked. I turned angrily to him.

"Someone who's got some goddamn common sense," I added, "Then again, a lot of people lack that."

Cameron shook his head and I heard him whisper, _what's your problem?_

If I could have gone back in time, I would have prevented Telemachus' death. He'd have found a way to make peace with the Tatars. Maybe if Ephesus hadn't butted and bullied through to get his way, maybe if the generals weren't that hardcore, maybe if the priests hadn't been as extreme and unyielding…

History would have changed.

The greatest irony of all was the unplanned mark Cari-Shiva of Golgotha left on the world.

The Tatars were an amalgamation of different cultures from the Sotoan and Versuan ancestry. They'd converted to the early Sotozine Christian faith (Christianity had started in Sotoa) in the late 100 to 200 A.D. Unlike the Hazri, the Tatars were always willing to adapt new ideas. It was mostly why they were so successful militarily. Their tactics were actually compatible with _modern_ warfare (MacGruber told us later they actually studied the Battle of Psel at Annapolis).

The Tatars also had the whole God thing on their side. They believed it was their divine duty to protect their lands from the _Northern Horde_, aka the Hazri. Had they lost at Masada, the Tatars wouldn't have been able to keep their foothold on the Psel Plains. History may have changed. The Hazri would have moved south and invaded Sotoa and Versua (although in reality, Hazri culture did seep into Versuan culture). Sotoan history, Christianity…even parts of Sapinian and Osean history would have changed dramatically.

Shiva of Golgotha actually wrote the version of the Bible used by the Yuktobanian Catholic Church. During that time, she had a dream that God supposedly sent her about a savior that would free the world from evil with the use of monsters.

Something like, _the monsters will be led by a man sent from God. _Then it went on with: _the man shall raise an army of those like him. _Just more crazy religious talk. However, there was plenty of factual history about this war and the mythology behind it. There was some book about the teenage queen surviving a botched assassination attempt by an angry Hazri nutcase. Her guard captain, Burska, threw himself between her and the arrow…sacrificing himself to protect his queen. Both Burska and Cari-Shiva were canonized by the Catholic Church. However, Alphonso joked that the woman got the shaft when her protector had a city named after him: Ocktabursk.

Ironic that the war I fought started there, and yet it wasn't that surprising at all if you add up the religious mumbo-jumbo.

But again, that wasn't what I found interesting.

Saint Shiva's genius idea inadvertently loosed a new terror onto the world. It was one that changed modern warfare forever. Regardless of who benefited from it, no one ever stopped to think fo the great irony of the more underrated heroines in history.

You see, the way I saw it…Cari-Shiva of Golgotha was the reason I was in Yuktobania. I was in this destroyed land instead of where I should have been. I should have been with Dulcinea. I should have been traveling to mommy and daddy classes, shopping for cribs, and reading generic books about first time parenting. I should have been moving into a new place. I should have went to the cathedral and be named the godfather of Micho's child at the baptism. I should have traveled to Oured, visited Lillian and Helena, and been a part of my first lesbian wedding.

It wasn't that those things couldn't happen after the war. I knew that. Assuming, of course, I survived…only a fleeting thought at the time.

Instead, I was prowling around a dead country looking for a lost sister and her husband. I was in a war. We fought the exact same zealous enemy that Cari-Shiva had herself faced down 1,300 years ago; a ruler of a small empire, someone who was barely younger than Carile Southerland or me.

Why? The irony was almost darkly comedic.

Saint Shiva of Golgotha's bright idea was the genesis of chemical warfare.

***

**1630 hrs**

An oil refinery's a processing plant used to turn crude oil into petroleum products. (Duh.) Crude oil is pumped into the plant then it is entered into a furnace. The oil is pumped into a distillation tower where the process of fractional distillation. Fuel and gases are sent up the tower where it cools. Whatever remains after the distillation is used for the products. At the bottom is oil used in cars, in the middle are things like kerosene and diesel fuel and at the top is the prize: pure gasoline and vapor which is converted into propane, butanes, even sulfur. Liquid paraffin's also made in refineries. Of course, any _Raven Bauer Project_ fan knew that the sexy agent liked to use pink-colored liquid paraffin in her personal ballistics tests.

But gasoline was the prize. But raw gasoline was just as dangerous as burning gas.

My mother knew that all too well.

My mom was secretive about her childhood. But after some digging, I knew it was pretty damn ugly. She told me a few things, but nothing specific. It wasn't until I was fifteen that I heard my parents talking about their childhoods. Then Kei Nagase dropped a bombshell on my old man. Of course, I knew she'd drifted around foster homes because her caseworker was a _lazy_ shrew. As such, every placement she had was not without…_issues_. One time she was settled with a couple that turned out to be white supremacists (oh yeah, that went over real well…).

After the beatings she suffered, she was moved into a family and the older brother and the dad tried to molest my mom. She was also taken to one family that actually tried to starve her. Finally, her caseworker was fired…but her replacement almost killed my mother. See, she was sent to Providence to live with this woman and a few weeks later, found out her husband was cheating on her. So what does she do? She kills them, drags their bodies into her house and pours gasoline over everything. She poured gas all over my mom and her bed while she slept. This insane woman set her own house on fire. My mother did her best superhero impression jumping out the window and landed in the pool.

All this happened before she was fifteen years old.

If my mom hadn't survived that…I wouldn't be in the middle of a derelict oil refinery.

Morrison got on the radio, "All Werewolf Victors, we're approaching the oil field. TAC's showing no enemy resistance, but we've got no idea what to expect. Stay alert. Raptor and Vampire Companies are setting up roadblocks to the east and west. Raptor's Third Team will make a recon of the facility adjacent to our target."

The facility looked like most other facilities of its type. It had a bunch of gray walled buildings. There's no point in describing it. It was just boring to look at.

Our concern however, was the oil well that burned out of control to the far east of the facility. It was pretty damn big for an oil well. As if from the pits of hell itself, black smoke and flame erupted from the tower's base.

It looked like a gigantic spider-like jungle gym, kinda like the one we had in elementary school. When we were in fifth grade, some of the girls hung around the middle level of the apparatus. Micho and Walt would always hang around the bottom and try to look up the girls' skirts. Walt got caught one time and Raquel Marino punched him in the eye.

All around the oil facility was a thick black sheen that covered the rooftops and the road. We entered in a little faster than we should have. Alphonso nearly ran us off the road. Cameron laughed and Micho slapped him upside the head for the hypocrisy of Hollywood Boy's jests.

Morrison continued. "Team One will secure the outer structure, Team Two will secure the well and Team Three will secure the facility and provide overwatch."

"What the hell's going on? My scopes are all messed up!" Wilcox said.

It started when we turned off the MSR. Tiny drops of black and brown rain came from the sky as the clouds darkened above. My mother told me that gasoline felt like a slow acid and it made your skin break out and boil. Crude oil just covered everything in a slime of Mother Nature's disgust…but without it our LARAs couldn't run. Irony in a fuel pump.

"It's raining oil." I said softly.

"This is gonna play havoc with our gear." Alphonso said.

"Sir, look! Another one. What's going on?" Chapman said.

I looked into the distance and sure enough, another oil well had gone up in flames. However, the flame was bright and yellow. It had to be over a thousand yards away. I wasn't too fazed by it. My concern was this place. We parked the LARAs in a perimeter around the fenced in areas near the oil well itself. The adjacent building was a small one, probably the administrative building. As we exited our vehicles, however…

"What in the…" I heard Tristan say.

At first, I had to clear the oil and gunk from my visor as the rain from the earth continued. I looked to the left and saw nothing but glared pools of oil reflecting the fires nearby. Some of the others gathered around the Estovakian as he looked down on a series of bodies. They were all in a line. All of them were bound by their hands and blindfolded. Thankfully, there were no children in the bunch. However, several of the dead were women.

"These people were done right. Execution style." MacGruber said.

"Yeah, but all of them aren't civilians…check it out." Alphonso noted.

I looked down at the man the Sapinian pointed out. He was wearing a uniform I hadn't seen before. It wasn't anything the Soma had. It was a type of silver and beige fatigue.

"Loyalist soldier?" Tristan added.

MacGruber said, "Airborne possibly. They said the Yukes dropped in a recon team to access the damage."

Adrian then chimed in, "Yeah…but this guy ain't a Loyalist. Or this guy."

The ones Adrian pointed out had scarlet robes on. They were all male and some of them looked old. There was a bang in the distance and my attention was diverted for a second. By the time I turned around, everyone had collapsed in on the bodies.

"What the hell? Civilians both Jaair and Common…Loyalist and Soma troops…all piled up together and shot execution style? What in the hell happened here?" Chapman said.

"I can tell you one thing…the Soma didn't do this." Alphonso said.

"How can you tell Sergeant? And how do you even know the Soma did this? Why would they kill their own?" asked Wilcox, foolish as ever.

Alphonso was at a loss for words…at first. He was exactly like me, but he finally found something to say. "Maybe they were infected…or maybe they deserted."

Teller fished something out of their pockets…and it was the same group of books I found in Dajul. He handed them to his fellow Senior NCO.

Alphonso said, "These are Dogmen. They got those prayer books and everything. Why would the hardcore defect? It doesn't make any sense."

Perhaps I wasn't as ready to be stoic about death. Something about the scene disgusted me even more so than normal. I could barely look at all. I kept my eyes on the horizon as much as I could. Nearby, I saw Riba's team trying to apply the anti-fire solvent. I thought I heard someone complaining about the suit possibly melting if they got too close.

"Look at the bullet wounds. There's no Ak-47 fire. No 74…no FAMAS…the bullet wounds are too small. Look at the shell casings." Micho said.

"What kinda gun can do that? What fires these?" Teller said.

"Let's move inside the structure." The LT said. "Our answers are probably inside."

We moved inside the administrative building or whatever the hell it was. I wasn't that anxious to do that for some reason. I found myself admiring the blackened and overcast mixed sky with the flames of burning oil wells, a weird illumination by man's destructive hands. My dad said once that war could be art if you looked hard enough. I tried real hard to find it, but all I could be was enthralled with the size of this massive desert, the grand scale of it all, and how insignificant I seemed in the grand picture of things. This may have been the place where my parents flew over and ravaged the land, but all I felt was the tiny hole of the universe I was stuck in. But if that was the fate of me, the hero…then I had to accept it…at least, for the moment. Finally, I followed the others inside.

It certainly looked that way from the broken black and white tile on the floor to the desk that hadn't been used in months. It seemed to be the perfect place to hide scientific shenanigans. However, it didn't take long to find what we sought. It seemed kind of embarrassing for the enemy to make it this easy to find everything out. Or, was it some kind of divine breadcrumbs laid out so we, the heroes, could find our way to victory? With all the religious overtones of the war, it certainly seemed plausible.

More bodies were found in the foyer. However this time, these bodies were well armed. They had older weapons. Some of them had SAWs, some of them had M-16s…but others had a strange weapon no one had ever seen before. Their uniforms were golden and white. They weren't loyalists for sure. They weren't Praetorian Guard either. Again, the uniforms didn't match up.

"Looks like we found the X-factor." The LT said.

"Who are these guys?" I asked.

"These are too advanced for the Soma." Alphonso said, "They don't rely on Special Operations as much. Look at these guns. I've never seen this."

Alphonso discovered the mysterious gun. The gun was no copy of the X-88 we used. It had a snubbed scope and the magazine entry was in the back. There was no open or closed bolt optional switch. There was another hidden nearby. I picked it up…and weighed like nothing. I took out the magazine and pulled out some of the rounds.

"The bullets are like pebbles." I said.

Cameron cut in, "Wait a minute! I've seen those before! I saw it on some military show on TV a year ago. It's made in Belka. P900X-Mark 10. It fires these special rounds…microbullets they call them."

"But these guys don't look like Belkans." Chapman said.

"They're not. I got IDs. One guy's from Emmeria. The other guy's from Los Canas." Micho said.

Wash grimaced, "PMCs."

Teller replied, "Gotta be. But what the hell are mercs doing out in the ass end of the desert?"

"More importantly, why are they capping innocent people? See, this shit is why I hate mercenaries…bunch of assholes with rifles!" Wash added.

"Like us?" Adrian asked.

"Exactly like u…" Wash added…before he stopped in embarrassment, "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

Adrian chuckled a little, then MacGuber cut them off.

"You two, enough joking around. Get up into the balcony." MacGruber said, "Alphonso, you, Eric and Chapman check the bodies. Get some ID, find out who these guys are affiliated with. Cameron, start bagging up the guns. Teller, take Alou, Wilcox and Black into the lower areas. We might find another Seelow lab."

Tristan came running back in, "Sir, Captain said a shamal storm's coming in from the northwest. We have to dig in for the night."

"Damn, so much for settling it in all one day. Okay, let's get to work."

This war had become a giant land of mysteries. We packed up and began to prowl deeper into the facility. We found a stairwell and down into the darkness we went…

***

Peter Wilcox was the master of the irrelevant. Sure, he was the guy who detected explosives. But It wasn't hard use the device he had to do that. Wilcox almost never had anything relevant to add to a conversation. He was either too late with the comment or would say something unintentionally offensive. He probably should have been called the master of the Freudian Slip, but then again…more than a few guys in the Corps qualified for that title. There were six of them were in my company alone.

We walked down the metal stairs and along the way, we found more bodies. Or at least, what some would consider bodies. We were walking on ashes and bones. The area at the bottom wasn't a hard floor. It was like the strange, brown-black colored scaffolding material found in science fiction movies. It certainly sounded like it as a clanging sound every time we took a step.

"Whoa!" Peter said.

"What?" Micho responded.

"Look! More bodies…charred ones." Peter said. I looked at Teller's face through the gunk and grime on his helmet shield. There was clearly the look of fear in his eyes.

"What the hell happened here?" said Teller.

It was pretty obvious. There was no sign of fire around the bodies, which meant that some kind of flame weapon had been used. It wasn't a surprise to me. The Dogmen used flamethrowers all the time. But if I _wasn't_ surprised…

"This crap's out of a horror movie!" Teller said, whipping his head around to gain a sense of the situation.

"What's the matter, Sarge? A little scared, are we?" Micho teased and put his hand on Teller's shoulder.

The Sergeant brushed Micho's hand off, "Shut the hell up, Micho…before I wish a birth defect on your kid."

My friend was aghast. In all this terror, death, and long hours with no sleep, it was easy to forget that Micho was about to be a father soon. It was only a matter of short time before Rachel had the baby.

Micho became furious, "Sergeant, that was _really_ uncalled for."

"Yeah, that was wrong. Now shut your goddamn pie hole."

"Sensitive, sensitive man." I heard Micho say to himself.

Sure enough, we eventually prowled our way to another one of the massive blast doors. Behind it was obviously one of the Soma's Seelow labs. It was strange though…and almost humorous. One would think the enemy would've taken more care to hide their secret weapon…especially since it involved human experimentation. Of course, the Hazri were never successful militarily anyway…

There was a reason for everything. The problem was that these blast doors took forever to open and if you gave PFC Wilcox enough time…he'd say something asinine.

"Hey! The LT's instincts were money!" said Wilcox.

"We're _definitely_ not in Kansas District anymore." I said off the cuff.

"What the hell are you talking about, Brandon?"

"I don't know. Some movie I saw when I was a kid." I said.

"I wish I was a kid sometimes." Peter added.

"You _are_ a child, Peter." Micho snapped. Peter than looked at me as the Sergeant struggled with the door.

"Hey, bro…you think I can get in invite to your pal Lillian's wedding? I've never been a dyke ceremony anymore. I might be able to pick up some chicks. Kinda hard to do at a dyke wedding, but I'm up for a challenge."

"You call her that one more time Peter and you're gonna an invite from my foot into your ass." I countered.

"Geez, I was just joking, dude." Peter apologized.

"Well, I expected more from you."

"Well, you're a child too." Peter said in some immature voice.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?!" I said.

"Would you two shut up?" Teller snapped at us. Finally, the heavy, slow door opened. I think I aged a few days in the time it took the door to open.

***

"Whoa! Look at this place!" Peter shouted.

It wasn't exactly déjà vu after the slow ass door opened. We probably expected it to be that way. You never wanted to have a perfect setup in their head before a mission. We'd learned that the hard way. We formed a line when the door opened. There was nothing but devastation inside. Everything was ransacked. We carefully walked in expecting to find more bodies. At first, all we found were smashed glasses, bullet holes and dripping water all over the place. Immediately after we entered, there was a small fire in the corner near some of the chemicals.

"Get the fire extinguisher!" Hoot ordered. We did have one with us, some half-assed plan for the oil well by one of the officers…just in case. The task fell to Mr. Irrelevant and Micho quickly moved through us to check out the destruction.

"Someone really went to town here." He said. Micho moved behind some computers and found some more bodies. Teller moved in to check it out.

"More of those guys." Teller said, "Okay, start checking for survivors…enemy, the usual drill."

I followed Micho into the back room. There was a T-junction that led to the right and a coded door to the left. We checked right and entered a large room with shattered tubes…the same tubes that held precious cargo: people. The tubes were arranged into two columns of eleven containers. The entire place was ravaged. There were no civilian bodies to be found.

There was blue fluid all over the room. There was one puddle of dark purple solution. Of course, it wasn't a surprise when one looked at the dead mercenary chap next to the pool with a gaping headshot wound. Every single tube had been shattered and some of them had burn marks.

_Where's Bartlett when you need him?_

I had wondered about him. _Why did he run away? What really happened to him?_

"Wait…I get it now! These guys got some kind of resistance. They broke into the lab looking for people…they took them outside and killed them." Micho said.

"Interesting theory. And what do you base this on?" I said while I looked into one of the destroyed tubes.

"Twenty two pods, twenty two bodies."

"Well, aren't _I_ the detail oriented person?"

We returned back to the main room. We decided to check the computers see if they could be accessed. On the top of the table was a white coffee cup. The computers themselves were actually newer than the ones I'd seen before. Then, I saw that strange purple symbol on them I saw back in Baquenta. I tried to log the central computer but I realized the uselessness of it all. Of course, it was hard to access anything that had several bullet holes imbedded in its side. I knocked one of the monitors over in frustration.

I picked up the coffee cup…but when I lifted it near my helmet, I saw condensation. Before I could even lift up my head shield…I knew the coffee was hot. I knew that only meant two things. One, this was done recently. Two, whoever did this was still here or had left recently. But the time period didn't match up. The oil well was burning hours before we got here. These men had been dead for hours. That meant it wasn't only the mercenaries who'd done this…and whoever it was close by.

"It's still hot. Someone's still here or just left recently." I said quickly.

"That's strange…why would…" Peter said.

Micho signaled him to be quiet and everyone began to form up in a line once we heard some rattling.

Then I heard laughing. It was a strange, overly hearty, high pitched laughter…and familiar laughter. It was _too_ familiar. The room we'd passed on the right at the T-Junction, the coded door, flung open and in the blink of an eye…a woman appeared. She was wearing some powder blue smock and trousers, similar to what a med student would war. The upper part of her shirt wasn't buttoned up and her long black hair covered her cleavage. Around her arm was some kind of white ID tag and there was something strapped to her back.

But the hair…it looked familiar; _too_ familiar. It was shiny…almost perfectly straight. The woman had a long, slender form to her. Her arms were a bit lanky and her legs were narrow. She slowly raised her head and I saw a pair of crystal blue eyes. However, these eyes almost _glowed_. Her face was sunken…she stared right at me. All of us were speechless until I finally recognized the woman standing in front of me. I couldn't believe it at first. But I couldn't contain my excitement.

"Sueltana! Is that you!?" I said, my voice full of life.

But Sueltana didn't smile back…at first. She then moved forward, if you could call it that. It was more like a shuffle of her feet. I wasn't the only one that caught it. Though, you had to be pretty daft (like Peter) to not notice it.

"What the hell's wrong with her? She's moving all weird." Teller said.

I asked her if it was her again. She said, "Indeed it is…my dear, dear brother. You were all I had to keep me going."

Her voice was halted. Sueltana didn't talk anything like this. She sounded hoarse and rattled. It was a distinctly feminine voice…but it sound warped. She approached me and she let me put her arms around her. For only the second time, I'd actually cried when I hugged her. But as I felt her, something was just…wrong. She weighed almost nothing. She did put on some weight before the war, but I could bench press Sueltana. Other than her face, she was _emaciated_. I could tell without looking at her body.

"What the heck happened? You're talking like a movie villain! Are you okay?" I said, holding her face. I let up my visor to kiss her and she kept her arms around me for a long time.

Then I remembered. The smell of the room was something I didn't pay much attention to since I was trying to see if the coffee was hot. It smelled like gasoline…

"What happened to you? What happened to Jacob? Please answer me." I said.

In a violent action, Sueltana shook her grasp from me and backed away from us.

"They're all gone! They killed them all!" she shouted.

"Who…who did this? Was it those men upstairs?" Micho asked.

Sueltana said nothing. Her face was scrunched in, as if she was angry at me for even approaching her.

"Sueltana…mom and dad were worried sick about you…"

"Your old man was wrong. There's nothing left to believe in anymore." she said.

And just like that, a block of ice fell into my heart. Sueltana Devia was one of the reasons I became the way I was. She had filled my heart with the stories of my dad's bravery, the ones he'd never tell. She was the one who told me about the value of dreams.

She ran into the room from where she came. We chased after her as Peter mumbled something about this being _ridiculous_. We entered the door and followed her down a silver hall. The area was less gory and destructive than before. As we entered another door, we found nothing but a giant warehouse room. Parts of the room were on fire. There were several burning trash cans around the place. All around there was charred paper, folders and sheets spilled over the ground. There were several overturned file cabinets. Some of them were on fire. I appoached her, but she continued to back away until she crashed into a table with chemicals and whatnot.

"What? What happened? Tell me everything." I said.

Sueltana was shaking, she was hunched over...afraid of me, "What is there to tell? Everyone's after you. Even people on your side. There's nothing to believe anymore. It's all a game…and all of us are the pawns. Even the Soma."

I didn't understand what the hell she was talking about. "Sueltana…are you insane?"

She screamed at me, "Don't you get it, Brandon! It's all a game! It's all one big game for one purpose…the ability to control war itself."

Teller pointed his weapon at my sister, "Man, I'm gonna shoot this crazy bitch!"

I put my hand up to lower his gun, "Stop!"

Sueltana had lost her mind. Her actions shouldn't have been a surprise. Whatever the Soma did to her…they were going to pay dearly for, that much I guaranteed.

"I've lost everyone." She said.

"That's not true. Lucy's still alive."

Her face scrunched in and she collapsed to the floor, "Yes…but I'll never see her again, will I?"

I walked slowly ahead of the group. Micho flanked me on the right. "Of course you'll see her again! Just snap out of it! We came here to save you!"

We stopped as Sueltana got up and stood with an unusual posture. Her arms were slung down in a lazy way and she let out a bitter laugh.

"How can you save someone who's already dead?" she asked me. "I'm dying Brandon. This virus is _eating_ me alive."

The room wasn't fully lit, but I could see Sueltana as well as I could as a kid. All four of us were frozen and none of us could say or do anything. Only an officer's order could have made us move.

Sueltana began to undress in front of us. I already had the postulate that my other sister had snapped a bit, but she wasn't insane. A few minutes later, my postulate changed into a certainty. My sister had lost her mind. Again, I didn't blame her. Whatever the Soma had done to her, it was a pass for bizarre behavior.

Once again, Peter was Johnny on the spot with the irrelevant comment, or rather…inappropriate one. He said something about Sueltana _giving us a free show. What's the trade value for this, two MREs?_

I wanted to dropkick him; that is, if it had not been for what I saw on her body…

I couldn't believe we couldn't see them before.

I'd seen some terrible things in this war. I had nightmares about Lucy's tongue being ripped from her mouth. I remembered stepping on the skeletons in the Baston Forest on the first day of the war. There was once a beautiful landscape there and in the end, everything was like chalk powder; something easily picked up and blown into the dead wind.

There were countless enemy bodies and they were twisted, burned, shot up, broken, smashed and impaled in every possible permutation, some of which not even shitty war movies could invent.

There were the scenes in Mogani: the old men leading insane chants, the child stuck in the concertina wire, all those people who waved at us hours before and blew kisses…

The same people who ripped Walter Snow to pieces…

The pregnant woman shot in the head…

Each one of them struck a deep cord within me. I don't know what happened inside my soul when I saw it, but when I did…my entire body became like ice. Maybe it was the fact that Sueltana was close to me. But this was what pushed me over the edge.

It was then I realized that I'd taken Seelow Rot for granted.

Sueltana bared us her nude body and all over her skin were green, yellowish blotches. At a closer look, I saw a variety of open sores of the same color and from them leaked some pinkish fluid. For all Peter's inapt comments about a strip tease, it was Peter who had to remove his helmet in order to vomit onto the floor. Micho almost retched, but he held his stomach. Hoot could only say, _damn…that's messed up._

"But you're not brave enough to kill me, brother. I understand." Sueltana said with a smile. Just like that it all made sense.

I'd taken the virus for granted. It didn't affect me. I finally understood what Sorenson meant.

The virus was not meant to kill _human_ life, but animal and plant life. As we continued through the war, there was a virus derivative that could control people's minds and make them go insane. We saw it in Scirre with the crazed hordes who tried to tear us apart as we rescued Lillian Izzo and SEAL Team Eight. From the countless briefings, we knew that Seelow was a green liquid that fazed into the atmosphere and didn't linger long.

The virus was only able to kill a human by large doses or prolonged exposure. That was hard to do, really. Even if someone was killed, it didn't leave the obvious signs as much as people wanted to believe. It was mostly discoloration of the skin. They never produced the disgusting sarcomas that my sister had. That led me to a new hypothesis: the Soma had cooked up an even deadlier version of the virus.

That certainly would explain the mercenaries. Maybe they knew more than we did.

"That's twisted. We gotta get Doc Gray down here." I said.

As we turned from her, we heard a noise. Sueltana had dropped something. However, when we turned, she'd dropped an _oil can_. Her entire body was covered in the dark substance. And yet, for all my horror, she smiled at me, her entire body a haunting beauty from my worst nightmares.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Micho shouted.

Sueltana produced a silver colored lighter and held it at her waist with the safety cap opened. I couldn't believe what I saw and everyone else thought that way. No one moved. We were _that_ shocked. We all knew what she planned to do…but I had no intention of letting it happen.

"No, stop!" I shouted. I tried to move for her, but no one else reacted. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. As hard as I tried, I couldn't reach her.

"I'm sorry, Brandon. Please forgive me." She said.

The lighter still burned, which meant there wasn't a safety switch. I'd heard about such lighters that could stay lit even if you took your hand off them. I didn't smoke, so what did I know? I wish I had known. Her face was stoic. Cold.

"Sueltana! NO!" I screamed.

I saw tears. I think I felt some of my own. And just like that…Sueltana Devia, my sister, dropped the burning lighter at her feet.

Next Chapter: The Seelow Deception (Part I)


	23. The Seelow Deception: Part I

Chapter 23: The Seelow Deception (Part I)

"What happened?" MacGruber shouted at us.

"There was a fire downstairs!" Teller said.

"Did you find anything? What was going on!" our Lieutenant asked.

"Doc, get over here!" Teller shouted.

That was how it went down. Doc Gray was treating us all for the burns. The Regen Matrix was actually _very_ good as a surface burn salve. But it was impossible to ignore the source of these wounds. They were from a fire my sister lit and with it…she torched herself and everything she lived for. She lit the flames of her death.

It was the flames of my personal hell. I was thankful the entire complex didn't go up in flames, but that was later. Much later. It seemed inconsequential once I saw my own sister incinerate herself. The entire building didn't explode, but the room we stood in…did. The flames burned everything in the room. The entire thing was premeditated. I knew I smelled gasoline before…now I knew why. Obviously, Sueltana didn't expect me, as I was the X-factor in this tragedy. With the dead mercenaries, the dead people outside and in, as well as the oil fires themselves, the very reason we were called here, I suspected Sueltana was the one who lit the fuse.

But it didn't really matter who lit the original fuse in the end. Sueltana lit her own funeral pyre.

The wind of fire from my Sueltana's burned form lit several trails of gas along the floor. One trail led to an oil can that exploded right near Micho. His UWS suit caught fire. It would have been worse if I did not have the presence of mind to pull him away from the side winding flame. So attentive was he to my sister's macabre final act that he didn't even see impending doom. At least Peter actually did something useful and got the fire extinguisher.

No one was the same after it was over. The others ran over to us as we ran out of the basement lab covered in smoke and burning advanced weaved Kevlar.

Micho's suit was completely unrecognizable at first. His insignia was burned away. Thank goodness he didn't have any grenades on him. He did exactly as he was trained to do. He dropped his ammo and rolled. The fire would have killed him if I hadn't acted soon enough. It was the difference between consoling a crying widow and a few burns here and there. Again, I was surprised at the suit's resilience. We'd been in country for over twenty days and even though there was obvious wear and tear on our equipment, our Ultimate Warrior suits were still pretty good shape. Fire was supposed to be a weakness for the suit; of course, as would anything. But the suit held up _remarkably _well.

I had to separate myself from the others. Something embarrassed me about the entire affair. It made me feel everything at once. I didn't know what to feel. I was sad she was gone. All this time she and her family was missing. I'd managed to save my own niece from a terrible fate from science gone horribly wrong. Her mother was gone. Lucy had no idea her mother was dead. But then again, perhaps Lucy had resigned herself to that possible fate. Her husband was still missing. But the reason she was gone was because of the Soma. These Hazri nuts had started a war with the Yukes for independence…or so they claimed. In reality, it was all about revenge and so-called divine right to a land they didn't even truly own. And if military history, much less regular history, was any guide, they certainly didn't even _earn _it. They treated the lesser classes of their culture like dirt, and that said a lot of them to treat their women and children like second-class citizens.

That didn't include the fact they'd unleashed a virus on their own country, killing plant and animal life to try to starve everyone. There was no telling how many people died because of that. As I found my way back to the others, my tears having dried up and my emotion balanced a little…there was the thought that the Soma had created a new version of this virus. That, in addition to creating a derivative that could control people's minds.

This virus had killed my sister and many others. Or…did she truly kill herself? The more I thought about it, the more it made my head ache. Riba and his team were still working with the oil well by the time I came back to Micho. Some genius in the S-4 underestimated the amount of Solution K we needed. Not to mention the fact that the Solution K had only stemmed the tide of the fire. Lawson, one of the guys in Team Two, suffered some terrible burn wounds when the some of the oil ignited near the well. He wasn't as lucky as Micho.

Gray finished up his work on my friend before moving onto a enervated Peter. He was still in total shock from Sueltana's actions. Most of the equipment and documents inside were destroyed, if not already damaged in whatever firefight took place before. We still had no idea what actually occurred here. We had no idea who the foreigners were.

But for Micho Alou, much like his father before him, was concerned about something a little different, and arguably…just as equally important.

"Brandon, you saved my ass _again_." said Micho.

"Well, I wasn't going to have Rachel all over my ass because you got killed." I said. However, the _way_ I said it was rather dry.

"Believe me, that's _not_ going to be her reaction if I'm dead."

"I know. I don't want to face that."

"Then remind me to save your ass one time."

"It seems I've been blessed with some good fortune."

"Yeah. Heroes always get good luck."

"Then your father wasn't a hero, then?"

"No. He was just damn good. _Your _father on the other hand…he was damn lucky and damn good."

I couldn't resist a chuckle. "So what am I to you?"

"Overrated."

"That's also what they said about my old man."

"That is true."

"What are you going to name your baby? You never did answer me."

"Oh, yeah. I think we got cut off by that ambush outside Meradi the other day. I think we're going to name him Lero. Usual Versuan name. Rachel came up with it."

"By the way, I gotta tell you the truth. Remember back in Arizona when Rachel tried to speak Versuan to you? Your wife's Versuan is pretty goddamn awful."

Micho scoffed. "Dude! That's _not_ cool."

"My mom could speak better Versuan if she had a tangerine in her mouth."

Micho had an evil smile on his face, "Yeah. Of course, knowing your mother, I'm sure there's something else she likes in…"

I quickly countered, "Don't even say it!"

"But to her credit, she only likes one brand as far as I know."

Gray interrupted us. "Guys, that's a little _too_ much information."

I just glared a Micho and he stared right back at me. "Why? You know it's true."

"Jesus Christ."

Micho returned my stare with, "You walked right into that one, hero."

I just snapped. I'd forgotten the entire reason we sat there in the mud and oil muck. "I can't believe we're having dirty jokes after my sister burned herself alive!"

Micho's attitude softened and he said nothing for a minute or two.

Finally, he spoke up, "I'm sorry. But dude, we've seen all kinds of terrible shit over here. I thought you'd resigned yourself to her death."

"I did at one point but…"

"But she _wanted_ to. Dude, were you paying attention? All those nasty looking sores on her…dude, death would have been a release."

"Then why aren't we talking about it?"

"Maybe she wanted you to laugh a little. There's no right thing here. You saved him. That's good enough. She would have been proud of you anyway."

"What?"

Doc Gray spoke once again. I thought it was probably the most words he'd said in a single sentence since Arizona Island.

He said, "You haven't changed in the face of a war that has no answers. There's no reason or rhyme anymore. We're just people with guns. But you know what I think, friend? I think she believed you were a hero anyway."

I didn't say anything. I didn't say a word for the rest of the day.

It all seemed hollow. The person who helped start this life I'd chosen was one of her own volition. There was nothing I could do. My entire self was empty except a jarred, jumbled feeling of anger, sadness, callousness, humor, and the desire for revenge that was mashed up inside of me like one of my mother's bad casseroles. It was a slow fire and it pulled my spirit in many directions, so much so that I had no idea what to feel. I was alone.

**2300 hrs**

We'd given up on the oil well for the moment. We dug in as ordered. Captain expected an attack. There was plenty of action along the flanks, but for once…we weren't involved. It was a strange peace.

After a few hours of sitting, my eye with a careful watch on the night sky and burning petroleum on the horizon, I realized that Sueltana's selfish, final act was probably her own test, in a twisted way. It would test that most difficult of virtues: endurance. It was the hardest because it was really supposed to be the easiest. Just keep at it. However, consistency was difficult when everything around you changed and every time you'd have to learn the same lessons over and over again. It was probably why humans were meant to be creatures of habit, but multiple repeated routines took much more physical and mental toll than most people would think. It was only in the doldrums of such a life where such things became apparent. And that was why heroes often stumbled.

Perhaps _patience_ was the correct term for the virtue. I'd endured my share of fortitude over the years.

I didn't leave high school and go straight into the Corps. My parents wanted me and Tash to experience life and weigh all the options before doing anything. It was obvious that college was overrated. Just about anyone could get in and most didn't even finish. Most ended up going for the unique experiences; but, mostly it was for alcohol and wild parties. Math wasn't my strong suit, and with the unique higher requirements for college ROTC, there was no way I'd be able to qualify.

That, however, was not the reason I waited for a few months.

At the time, I was staying with Micho at his mom's old house in Rouge Park before he got eloped with Rachel. She kicked me out so I couldn't disturb the two lovebirds, so I had to move in with one of Dulcinea's friends. I stayed in his basement for three months. Power Recon was in its infancy and the Corps tried to cherry pick the best talent for its ranks. Eight days after I met Dulcinea, we ran into Parker Moor, a son of one of my mom's friends at a restaurant. He talked about some special camp the Corps was running near the place. It was a special indoctrination to the Corps, a program to set aside the myths of the Marines. It wasn't anything new. They often ran the camps for parents of prospective Marines, teachers, professors, and even did special teambuilding workshops for Corporate Osea's Top 500 companies.

Tasha and I and a few others enrolled in the special camp.

It was there I met Al Chambers, Eric "The Red" Martin, Carile Southerland, Ali Carter, Cameron Craft, and the Sheck. My only regret was that I never got to meet Xanthia King. Someone through the grapevine said she'd been killed. I didn't believe it though. Carile was an amazing softball player, and Cameron showed ominous signs about his driving ability, or lack thereof.

After it was over, I'd gathered a lot from the camp. We spent about a month in Cara's Cove and got crazy and wild before we signed the enlistment papers.

It was a glorious time. We got to laze around in the November sunshine of Sand Island. Micho and I got to watch Rachel and Dulcinea frolic around in their turquoise and ice-white bikinis. We jetsetted with Tasha and we got to see Lillian and Helena. I got to go visit Sasha Masson's house in the Beverly Palisades outside Bana City (not to be confused with Beverly Hills in Hollywood. Both places _did_ have similar weather and expensive homes).

Of course, Tasha dragged me to a Lenovo Handicap concert. Then I dragged her to a Our Valentine Heartbreak concert. 'Course, she was drinking through the entire thing because she hated OVH and it was actually around this time that Dulcinea had her little…DUI.

It seemed a just reward for following the dream. Soon after, Tasha and I were off to St. Hewlett and Camp Angel.

Camp Angel was a brutal place in the summer, but we went during December when it was actually nice and mosquitoes were a rare sight. But it was tough. Every day was a struggle, but it was nowhere near as difficult as Recon Training. The reason was that it was much easier to train if you knew you weren't going to be dropped because of a minor infraction. The worst punishment you could get, apart from getting kicked out all together or losing a rank, was usually a trip to the Sand Pits for all kinds of ridiculous exercises and tasks. The least was usually a drop and twenty pushups in front of everybody.

Recon…there were people dropped the first day because they brought more equipment than the announcement sheet said to bring.

On the final week of our brutal training, the Drill Instructors had softened up on us. Our DI called together after a timed two mile run. We lit a fire and he asked each of us to tell the story of why we joined the Corps. I told the story about Sueltana's visit when I was nine. She gave me a series of comic books, some drawn by her deceased friend Yuri, about a group of techno soldiers who fought aliens. My sister's gift was what set the commitment phase into motion.

Now she was gone. It all felt so hollow.

Mom and Dad would be heartbroken. Tasha would be sad, even if she wasn't that close to her, and Astrid wouldn't quite understand. I felt the worst for my father. After all, he was the one who found her and took her in. He told me about those times in Versua where she made it her mission to keep everyone's spirits up. Back then, she was just an adorable, lonely kid who wanted a _sense of permanency_, as she put it. It was my father who did that. He saw his first child in Sueltana Devia; he saw the incarnation of the sister Tasha and I never got to meet.

That pain was deep and scarred both my parents. That scar led into the war in the first place. However, among a nest of vipers for the enemy, shady government figures, and a terrain that was just as brutal as our theater of war, they found this girl who changed their lives in so many ways. She was a spark. But she was just ten years old. How times had changed.

But I knew _why_ it all happened. It was something deep in the recesses of science and twisted logic. People created this virus. It set the entire chain of events into motion. It wasn't the dirty bomb that blew up a fraction of Ocktabursk. It wasn't the invasion of Cinigrad. It wasn't even the virus itself. It was the _people_ who created Seelow Rot.

It was actually the most effective super weapon Osea had ever seen since the so-called Dispater Tower. I thought about it as I sat in the darkness. My parents' tales came back. It was the only weapon that truly accomplished its true purpose, in spite of the other types of the sickness. In truth, my sister was not just the victim of a virus, but the victim of ruthlessly efficient minds as well.

**Brandon**

**September 12, 2037**

**0734 hrs**

There was a helicopter. It wasn't an Osprey, or I wouldn't have heard it until it within a mile or two of our area. The morning sun draped over the desert. The war of the night had faded away and the officers talked about advancing towards Upper Jilachi.

It was an old fashioned green-black Huey. Unless it was a cas-evac, only civilian contractors, or higher officers flew in on choppers. This meant that it was probably Battalion command staff. Which officer was beyond me, but my guest was probably Colonel Holland.

I remembered the first time I saw Holland. He was at the Arizona Island Assembly area addressing all the soldiers who'd made it through the Recon training program in one piece. If there was one thing he loved, it was shaking hands. He made his way around the formation and asked us the same three questions.

"_Where are you from?" he asked me back then._

"_Pikes Hugo, Alaska, sir." I said._

"_That's pretty far out there. Are you sure that's not a foreign country, soldier?" asked the Colonel, as he laughed._

"_No sir."_

"_I'm just kidding you. You Alaskans are some weird people. So, are you hoping for a war?_

"_Not really, sir. At least not yet."_

"_Oh, yeah. I bet your parents were hippie, peace loving, tree huggers, right?"_

"_Well, everything except the tree hugger part, sir."_

"_You got a woman in your life?"_

"_Sir, I have too many women in my life. And that doesn't count my girlfriend, my three sisters, my mom, my mom's friends, my next door neighbor, my best friend's sisters and his mom…"_

_Three_ sisters.

Now it was two. I wondered if Colonel Holland would ask me that question again as he approached us. Morrison was actually a few yards from us. I saw him and I turned my head away as Morrison greeted him.

"Captain." The Colonel said.

"Sir." Morrison said, followed by the obvious salute. I heard additional footsteps with the Colonel. I turned around and saw two women behind the two other soldiers with him. The Huey had shut off its rotors; something I thought was extremely unusual. Holland never stayed around long. Something serious was going on.

"This is Mrs. Sorenson from H-Corp's Personnel Executive Branch. We're here to run some tests on some of your Marines for Seelow Rot."

"We just need to take some blood samples. We'll be in and out as quickly as possible."

The voice was _too_ recognizable. I turned away from Chapman and Micho and got up soon as she walked over to me. She wasn't wearing a black blazer this time. She wore a black suit of some kind, but it was nothing a business person would wear. It was as if the entire ensemble was covered in dark Kevlar and her boots were Kevlar and plastic long boots; nothing like any executive would have on their feet…more like a mercenary.

Then again, Sorenson was former military. Such things may not have bothered her at all.

The woman next to her was wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, brown pants, and a green tank top with white gloves. The woman also had short, very shiny black hair. She was pretty beautiful. But what held my eyes was her skin. It was a glowed…peach. Dulcinea's skin wasn't anywhere near as luminescent as this woman's. There wasn't a single blemish on her face or her clothes. It was like she stepped out of a vacuum chamber from a spaceship onto an alien planet. Her eyes were equally bright. They were an active blue. It was morning, yet it seemed like she'd dimmed the room and lit up her own body. It was unbelievable. This woman didn't look like anyone I'd ever seen before. She might as well have been an extraterrestrial.

Finally, they were approached by a third woman of equal height, Commander Bohr. I was right after all. I had entirely too many women in my life. They followed me around wherever I went. As I walked over to her, we both just held our arms in equal confused amazement. Of course since she was here, that probably meant that either it had something to do with our equipment or the virus.

"_What_ are you doing here?" I said. The others turned in amazement at the informal way I addressed Sorenson. _She_ didn't seem to mind, but my former and current Team leaders were flabbergasted.

"You two _know_ each other?" Dickerson said with an eye that looked like someone had stuck a tiny piece of balsa wood into his eyelids to keep them open.

I shook my head and said, "Probably more than I should, sir…but regardless…"

Sorenson laughed. "I feel _so_ honored."

Sorenson began milling about as some of the other Marines that came with the colonel started setting up a tent. It was important to remember that we still hadn't completely controlled the oil fire. We'd only contained it. The oil spray had been cut off. Riba's team had to shut off the auxiliary controls…that were actually inside the facility where I saw Sueltana die. No one really complained about the long

We weren't getting attacked by the enemy. It was strangely safe. Some of us were on edge. Some of us were at peace. I had no idea what to feel, so I kept a straight face in the middle of all this abnormal time. Bohr was too busy instructing other Marines. I wasn't sure what was going on at the time, but it was clear that it had something to do with the virus. I saw the second woman next to Sorenson and she made eye contact with me and licked her around the entire circle of her lips in one fluid motion. The woman didn't seem natural at all.

_What the hell is with this lady_, I thought.

Dickerson asked, "And who are you?"

The woman walked, or rather, pushed her way past Dickerson and made her way over to me. The woman was rail thin, but her skin was tight. It was like she had tiny muscles. She looked skinny, but seemed stronger than she actually was. My sister was a little heavier because she was taller. But if my sister had some extra muscles, I would have noticed. Or it could have been that she just looked anorexic.

"You must be the brother." She said, shaking my hand.

The grip was firm. Too firm. She squeezed my hand harder than anyone had ever squeezed my hand in a friendly setting. This woman _had_ to be on some performance enhancements. But what truly held me was not the handshake…the fact she said I was _the brother_.

"What? Do I know you?" I said.

"I am to your sister as you are to Mrs. Sorenson, an obsession. Well, not _really_ an obsession, but you get it."

I didn't know how to react to Sorenson's so-called _obsession_ with me, but Tasha obviously knew this woman. She wasn't a Marine, but she was sure _built_ like one. Her steps were hard imprints into the ground. She looked like she could kick my ass…and like it. It was amazing how fast they got the tent up.

"And you are?" I asked.

The woman was a Yuke. But one thing though…she kind of looked like Sueltana, Tasha, and Dulcinea combined. (Well, that would have been freaking weird, but you get the picture.)

"My name is Dr. Ivanava Tirusky Alana Zarolslav, biochemist and graduate of Dresdene University."

"Um…whatever. You said you knew my sister?" I said as I entered the tent.

"Oh yes. After all, it was me who saved her in the first place." She said, "Now sit down."

Someone had pulled a chair behind me and this Zarolslav or whoever the hell she was shoved me down into it. She pulled out a needle and one of the aides rolled back my suit's sleeve. The others were shooed out of the area as medical equipment was set up. Again, we were in the middle of a destroyed refinery. Crude oil was all around the ground. It was hard for anyone to work without almost slipping in the stuff. I think Bohr asked me to remove my helmet and I gave it to her.

"Hey, watch it!" I protested. After a little fudging around with my arm, the woman got the needle in me. "What is someone like you doing out here?"

Sorenson spoke for her. "She's working on a fully fledged vaccine for Seelow Rot. So far, we've been rather successful."

The Yuke said, "But _you_ need no such vaccine. Your own blood serves as one. And a catalyst."

The woman spoke directly in my ear in a voice that was almost…seductive. I didn't even feel the blood being drained out of me.

"Really?" I said.

Sorenson walked around to me and looked me directly in the eye. Her boots and pants legs were covered in a thick sheen. Of course, if Sorenson's shoes and pants were brown like the Yuke woman, they too would be covered in oil. But her unmoving eyes told me much about what she wanted to say before she even spoke.

"You and your sister…your genetic data can be engineered for this virus. The original strain came from a genetic mutagen that was injected into military personnel as part of an unsanctioned experiment by certain people in the government between 2007 and 2010. The mutagen was originally developed by a Belkan-Yuke born man named Asimov Tarslaus Arusa. He, along with several disgruntled employees of our company and former subsidiaries, stole a vial of the mutagen that kept within Fort Quantico. They concocted the virus from it and used insane asylums to test the virus on innocent people."

"The same place I worked once." This Zarolslav said, quickly adding on to Sorenson's explanation. "Your mutation, along with your sister's and several other people was the result of congenial exposure to the virus through the original experimentation on your parents. Your body produced a genetic defect called Rhombus."

_So that's what it was! _

The Yuke continued, "Anyone who has Rhombus has increased T-cell potency. Your Cytotoxic cells, the ones that destroy viruses, have an enhanced layer of glycoprotein and a mystery substance I cannot recognize. The ability of the memory cells to keep and hold intelligence about your viruses is immense. The Rhombus Contingency works by enhancing the T-Cell count and turning it into a ruthless, perpetual virus killing machine. Unlike others with the RC however, you and your sister contain three times the level of Rhombus genes. Your pineal glands continue to produce a type of melatonin that resists…"

My head hurt from all the science. I was intelligent, but all her biochemistry mumbo-jumbo was too much. Her enthusiasm while she spoke was the equivalent of a kid hopped up on caffeine and in the process, he'd conduct a discussion of his favorite cartoon show.

"Whoa, whoa…slow down." I said.

"Basically, your body is aging much slower than regular people…and your DNA can resist diseases much more effectively than any other life form on the planet."

And that was it. The entire puzzle was complete. I started to smile. It wasn't that I was aging slower or could resist disease; that was trivial. The important thing was that my suspicions were correct. Now I knew the true reason why the enemy wanted me. Or so I thought…

Sorenson continued as the Yuke woman put a second needle into my left arm, "However, there _is_ a downside. That is where the enemy comes in. We found a way to create something much more dangerous by accident. We spliced you and your sister's blood together, but the compound only created a much stronger virus. This time…we've classified it Level 3 Seelow Rot, one that can kill humans by rotting them to pieces like a plant or an animal."

"However, it would appear that the enemy had beaten us to the punch. We've examined the notes that were not destroyed in the fire."

"Wait a minute! Sueltana said the virus was eating her alive. Could that be it?" I said.

Sorenson lamented, "I wish she hadn't killed herself. But it seems the enemy is one step ahead of us. We've been unable to do it with anyone else's blood. For the Soma, that would not be the case. Our only hope is to locate and apprehend Asimov."

Just as I was about to ask Zarolslav what really went down when she met Tasha, Colonel Holland and Captain Morrison walked right up into the tent and faced the brown haired executive.

"If this third type exists, what precautions do my men need to take against this virus?" he asked.

Sorenson shook her head. She looked at me with a face like she'd found out her dog died. I didn't need to be told what the answer would be like.

She took a deep breath and said, "If you take all the people in the Marine Corps and the Army who have the RC…it's just not enough to inoculate everyone against the virus. Imagine how the people back home would react to that."

And that was the catch. Even though there were people who were immune, it wasn't enough to fully keep everyone safe from the virus. It was always a catch. Holland took Morrison outside.

"Captain, I just off the phone with General Malleus. The entire regiment's ceasing our original battle plan and will commit all resources to locating, apprehending, and interrogating Soma scientists in cooperation with the loyalists and Special Forces."

"Yes, sir." Morrison replied.

This whole time, Zarolslav was feeling up and down my arm as she continued to draw blood from my arm. It wasn't the amount of an blood donation. Those were in pints. All in all, I had three syringes worth of blood drawn from me. She pulled the last needle out and smiled.

"Thanks for the blood, sweetheart." She said.

"Uh…yeah. Thanks." I said.

I felt a pair of arms around me. It was difficult to feel anything in the suit. The UWS's armor was thinner than people thought it would be, but the entire suit was one long strip of enhanced armor: less sophistication for more dependability.

Then I felt a wet pair of lips against my forehead. The kiss was odd. It wasn't like my mother's kiss, or Dulcinea's for that matter. Hell, it wasn't even close to Tasha's or even Astrid's. It felt like two different people. It was strong and tender at the same time. I knew who it was. Oddly, I didn't react as quickly I probably should have. Then again, I'd seen too much tragic and weird shit to be overly affected by some scientist kissing me in the forehead.

"What was _that_ for?" I said.

"Cause you're adorable. See you around." She said. The woman walked off. Bohr gave me my helmet back…and said something along the lines of, Jesus Christ. The look on her face was priceless. It was a visage that said: _that's the weirdest lady I've met in my life._

Apparently, some of the other guys had also witnessed this. They laughed their asses off as the Colonel's entourage left the area. Everyone started taking down the tents and I walked over to the others.

"Wow, what a bizarre woman." I could only say.

I shook my head and turned away as Dickerson and the others milled about. Holland discussed something with our company commander. The rest of the aides and doctors were finished with the blood samples, they began putting away equipment. This refinery wreckage seemed a rather…unsterilized place to draw blood for medical research. However, by now the oil fire was close to being contained. It seriously annoyed the Captain, but none of us enlisted guys were concerned. Apart from my tragedy, there was little or no drama at all.

We still didn't know who the foreign soldiers were. It didn't really matter at the time though. But the longer we stayed in this place, the more I didn't want to leave. Maybe it was Sueltana's soul that kept me wanting to stay. After a few minutes, the officers gathered everyone who was around the general area.

"As soon as Team Two finishes with the well, we're pulling out." Morrison said to the other officers.

"What about the lab?" MacGruber asked.

"Leave it. Most of its useless now."

"What about…that woman down stairs? The one who burned herself or whatever." Teller said.

I looked over to the left and I saw Peter shudder when Teller said that. I should have been angry when Teller said that as impersonal as he did. I wasn't sure if it was indifference because of experience with death…or just indifference because of me. Then again, he almost killed Sueltana . The safety was off. He pointed the gun _at her_.

Scratch that, I was pissed at him.

"We've made arrangements for her remains to be shipped back home." he said.

Morrison had been gracious enough to discuss it with me. Maybe that was why my emotions were much calmer than I thought they'd be; at the very least, it made up for his words in Dajul.

"Now…"

Eric was on the Harpoon gun at the time. We'd kind of forgot he was there. "Sir, we got two vans bearing down on us fast!"

The MSR near to us was a narrow, barely visible road from the oil and dust that covered it. We'd parked LARAs 04 and 02 for a half-assed roadblock. Morrison never gave any specific orders for such a road block since we knew there'd be no enemy resistance. But again, there's this immutable law in the Marine Corps…

"Do we light it up?" someone asked.

The vans were about two hundred yards away. Everyone in the general area of the vehicles ran to the blocking position and I managed to get a scope on them as they closed in. there's was nothing unusual about them. They were actually not traveling that fast. They were both the same color. We didn't need to know the color, really. (Just for reference, it was white.) The reason was that it seemed that every freaking vehicle in the Baston, Severja, Gublina, and Jilachi areas were white.

Sheckenhousen had already glassed the enemy. "I don't see any weapons!"

I wasn't sure. Then I noticed that they began to slow down. This wasn't a suicide attack. An enemy attacking with a car didn't slow down at all. Finally, at about 70 yards, they came to a stop. There was a tense moment as we witnessed a few people get out of the vehicles. One of them raised a flag, but it wasn't a white flag. It was a regular Yuke flag. The people stood in a line. It wasn't that big, but it was clear that these people had no hostile intent.

"Don't shoot! They're loyalists." Dickerson ordered. "Stand down."

I was actually excited. "That's strange. What are they doing out here?"

The Yukes were mostly concentrated to the north of our positions. They'd advanced from Ocktabursk and through the Sonza. What _were_ they doing here?

"Wait…they don't look like Yukes." Adrian said. I wasn't sure what he was talking about. I didn't have my weapon up since the

"Sevaspol Division." Alphonso said, "A Yuke infantry made up of immigrants from every country in the world just about."

Teller became angry and amused at the same time. "You know…I'm really sick of you knowing _everything_. You've become a cliché, my friend."

"Why would _anyone_ immigrate here?" Dickerson said.

We all took a quick, confused glance at the Lieutenant. The comment was completely out of place for someone like Dickerson, someone whom we'd always expected to say the right thing. Or was he simply looking at the desolate landscape? It had to be. After all, there were many of my company who just could no longer grasp the fact people used to live and work around the desert. It had been many days since we'd seen any semblance of civilized life. And yet every five minutes we were constantly reminded of how lawless, brutal and inhuman Yuktobania had become.

"They're also the only unit in the world that allows women to fight in frontline combat duty." Alphonso said.

"Maybe my sister should have signed up with them." I said off the cuff.

"Which one?" Peter asked. It was clear that Peter had regained his sense of idiocy.

I didn't hesitate. I pushed Peter into the LARA's side door. The others didn't pay much attention to us. I had to do it, however. It was all that pent up frustration: Micho's burn wounds, my OTHER sister setting herself on fire, her daughter a victim of some inhuman religious practice, her husband missing, Tasha…well, God knew where she was. Walt's death, the insane people, mercenaries, Kaida, all the death I'd seen. Now, it was Peter Wilcox's millionth moronic comment. I had to knock him around, if just for being a complete and absolute dumbass.

"Damn, dude! I'm sorry."

"Peter, do us a favor and just shut the hell up, would you?" I said tersely. He really shouldn't have said anything. I _did_ outrank him after all.

There were seven soldiers in obvious Loyalist uniforms. However, not all of them carried AK based weapons. Only one carried a true AK. There were two women and five men. In the lead was a short, spaghetti blond haired, flushed, diminutive woman, at least small for a soldier at about 5'1. She carried a weapon I'd only seen in movies. It was a G36. To her immediate back-right side was a pale man with golden blonde hair. However, he carried a long rifle of some type. As the woman came closer to us, she held her hand up, the palm facing us…a universal sign of friendliness.

By now, some of the higher officers had gathered around the area. Sorenson and Zarolslav had also taken interest.

"It's about time we saw a friendly face." She said.

The woman was obviously the leader of the group…but her voice did not project it at all. She sounded like a college student more than some irregular military leader. But as I got a better look at her, I thought she looked somewhat _familiar_. She had a ruddy face with a few freckles and her eyes were a deep green. She was filthy, as everyone was, but she did look somewhat vivacious in the face of all this destruction. But her face didn't match the words she spoke. She looked bitter, furious.

But I noticed that she kept looking in my direction, as if I had something worth looking at. I was numb to it. I didn't really care…at first.

"Can we help you?" Captain Morrison asked.

Then, almost immediately, she changed her disposition. She was all smiles when she said, "You're the ones the Soma are afraid of, right? The glassed ones. Never thought I'd run into you _makasas_ out here."

Just as she said that, I started to laugh. Everyone looked in my direction and wondered what was so funny. But then, I saw Zarolslav snickering a little. Apparently, Yuke country slang was not a hot item of knowledge among the others.

"What?" Captain Morrison said. His face looked like his brain had shut down.

"My apologies. War gives you bad manners. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Risa Shupov Derushka of the Sevaspol Infantry Division, Special Forces Division."

_Then_…I remembered her. She was the granddaughter of the infamous Ivana Derushka, the most celebrated Yuke ace of the Belkan War. Sueltana bragged that she knew her personally and even went to college with her (which I doubted at first until she spoke to me four years ago in perfect Osean). Then I remembered Lilian talking about her. But at that time, I thought that Risa Derushka was a silly, world-be-free person…not unlike Sasha Masson's daughter. But four years was a longer time that most people thought. How the _hell_ did she have major command position? But if surviving this hell was any merit, she certainly _earned_ it.

"Umm…no offense, but you're old enough to be my older brother's daughter." Sorenson cut in.

"Shit!" she exclaimed in a humorous tone, "I feel so old. But I guess when mortar rounds hit you and friendly bombers crashes into your HQ, not to mention some deadly virus…I would think the attrition rate would be a _little_ high, wouldn't you think?" she said, her voice a sly, stinging shot at us.

My great-grandfather had such a thing happen to him when he fought in the Usean war in the 40s. Back then, bomber pilots had high attrition rates and ended up leading an entire squadron as a Lieutenant Colonel at 27; but one in _my_ day and age?

"Do you guys need anything? Water, food, a ride?" the Captain asked.

The woman shook her head. "Well, we came here to find _you_. We need your help."

"Could you elaborate?" Dickerson asked.

The woman crossed her arms. "We've been investigating the Seelow Rot virus for the last several weeks. We were closing in on leads from several sources…and even guided your regiment to a few of your own."

We all looked at each other.

"What?" some of us said.

"Oh, come on! Who do you think got you all that wonderful intelligence about the Dogmen Lieutenants and the Saint Marie du Maurine situation? Special Operations don't do themselves, you know?" she said angrily. We've caught the guy who invented the damn Seelow virus in the first place."

Almost in unison…Sorenson, Zarolslav, me, Dickerson, Morrison, MacGruber, Alphonso, Colonel Holland, Commander Bohr, Chapman, Riba, and Cameron (at least I think) all said the following:

"What?"

"Well, we had some help." Risa said. She then snapped her fingers and said, "Bring him out!"

A pair of soldiers came out of the trunk of the second van and hauled over a man in a white lab coat. His hands were bound, his mouth was gagged, and one thing was clear…a discarded box of raisins looked less withered and wrinkled than this man did. His white hair was dirty and full of dirt clumps. He smelled awful. But whoever he was, he had to be of some importance. The old man didn't seem to put up any resistance…at least at first.

_This was the man who created the virus?_

However, he glanced at everybody with a pair of unusual green shade eyes. When he looked right into _mine_, he started to squirm and struggle. He was saying something, but I couldn't understand him. He was gagged after all. Zarolslav was ten yards away from me at the time. In an instant, she was right behind me. Then she was next to me. I didn't hear any footsteps…_at all_. I looked to the left and I saw the entire body was pulsing and she shook from sheer rage. Her skin had blobs beneath it and several veins began to show. Just before I regretted my indifference over this Zarolslav's true gender…she screamed the top of her lungs.

"ASIMOV!" I saw her face turn feral. I tried to move between her and whoever this guy was. I knew, of course, this would not end well. The others were slow to react. They should have been faster.

"Get out of my way!"

What happened next…she shoved me out of the way. But it wasn't any ordinary shove, it was like she _threw_ me with a few fingers! She did it with her off hand, by the way. Zarolslav threw me at least fifteen yards with a light off hand shove!

One thing to remember about me was that I weighed about 230 to 250 pounds with all my gear and stuff. Zarolslav was slightly shorter than I was. As I recovered, I saw she'd already ran the twenty yards to get to this Asimov! But as I picked myself off the ground, I saw that somehow…some way, Sorenson was already pulling the Yuke male/female back. I was confused.

"STOP! Ivanava! Enough!" the Osean woman shouted, He's no good to us dead! Now back off. Just walk away! He's not worth it…not yet anyway."

How did that woman get over there so fast? Helena Sorenson, the so-called Executive of Military Personnel Affairs, was at least _forty_ yards away from Zarolslav. It couldn't have been more than four seconds between the time it took to get off the ground and the time Sorenson was there at the side of the other…person. There was no way that _Helena Sorenson_, even for an ex-Marine pilot, could run 40 yards in _four seconds_. Damien Measels, who was on our track team in high school, could run a 4.2 second forty yard dash…in a straight line…in _perfect, controlled conditions_.

It went without saying that Yuktobania oil field was _exactly_ the opposite.

The others were in total shock. I was shocked as well. I'd never seen _anyone_ move that fast. _Everyone_ was turning heads in confusion. It was obvious that this was the man who created the virus…but what did Ivanava know that I didn't?

"What's _your_ beef with him?" I immediately walked up to the pair.

"Long goddamn story." Zarolslav said. "But he's the reason your sister set herself on fire! He started it all!"

And just like that, it all snapped into perspective. It was clear that this Asimov started it all…and now he was here.

"_Wow_, remind me not to piss you off." Sorenson slyly said to Zarolslav.

"It's a gift." She replied. Finally, Risa had enough of the silliness.

"Are we all cool? Are you cool?" she said, sounding more like a college student than a staff officer.

Most of us were too shocked to even speak.

"Okay. The Soma are desperate. They know they can't beat the Allies in a straight up fight. They're trying to distribute a new type of the virus through ballistic missiles."

"What?" Holland shouted.

"It seems our friend here was withholding information from Musharak. He knows something no one else knows. We hoped this guy would have the answers."

"How are they going to spread the virus if it can't stay in the air that long?" Sorenson asked.

"Again, we _thought_ he'd have an answer. But we can't pry anything out of him! We've tried everything. This guy's tough for a 73 year old man." Risa said, angrily.

"What exactly are they looking for?" Morrison asked.

Everyone turned in surprise when there was suddenly an old man next to Risa. He'd been walking up next to her the entire time, but no one noticed…until someone said something. But he wasn't as old as Asimov. He had a half burned cigarette wedged between his ear and his head. His black leather jacket and jeans looked like he stole them from a biker shop. As he looked right me, he smiled.

"They're looking for something called the Eye of Shiva." He said. I recognized him. It was Jack Bartlett. The same man who I'd plucked from a laboratory tank weeks ago in Baquenta. What was he doing out here?

"Bartlett? Is that you?"

Dickerson replied. "What? Goddamn it, Corporal! Do you know _everybody_ in Yuktobania!"

"It sure seems that way, sir." I replied sheepishly.

The blond man next to Risa finally spoke, "Through with your smoke break, old man? In the middle of a freaking oil field for Christ's sake!"

Bartlett laughed and walked over to me, "I don't care. I'm an old dog who should have died 27 years ago."

It was finally clear. There was no point in responding to anything anymore. I'd just had the most bizarre 26 hours in my life. The others began ooh-ing and aw-ing at the sight of this man. Holland was confused. But for the others, most of them knew who he was. My parents secret was long out of the bag, but up until now, no one really cared. Now I understood why Bartlett fled Bethlehem Park.

"Did _you_ catch him?" Sheckenhousen asked.

Bartlett coughed, "Well, you know what they say…you gotta use a slippery old bastard to catch another slippery old bastard. That's why I've been MIA. I was tracking this son of a bitch down. He was a hard guy to find."

Most of us were all smiles.

"Dude. You're like the coolest old man I've ever met." Cameron said.

"Ah, save it. I'm getting too old for this shit." Bartlett said, lighting another cigarette.

I couldn't help myself from laughing. I was close to doubling over in amusement when he said that.

The blond man spoke up again. He said his name was a Major Kanis. Strange, since this Major Kanis looked old enough to be a barista in Don's Stone Cup coffee shop in Anchorage.

"We got our help from this man. We found him trying to package up supplies at one of his secret underground labs." He said.

Then Bartlett spoke up, "And that leads us to our little problem. Out of the freaking blue, this guy says he wants to talk…but he wants a certain soldier to ask him the questions. He said he wanted to meet him face to face. That's why I'm here. Because I told Colonel Blonde Bomb here that I could find him."

"Who?" Morrison asked.

"Well goddamn it, Captain! Do I need to spell it out!"

Just as he said that, _everyone _turned_._

_Everyone _turned…and looked in my direction. It was that painful realization that cemented this idea that all roads seemed to lead to me. Now I finally, _truly_ knew how my father felt back in the old days. I felt exposed and vulnerable.

"Oooooh. Oh...shit." I slowly said.

Then, for whatever reason…Sergeant Teller spoke up. "Oh, don't be a wimp. All you have to do is ask the questions." Teller said, poking me in the ribs, "You wanted to be the hero. So act like it. Prove it!"

"Teller, shut up." MacGruber cut in.

There was silence for about a minute as everyone looked to me to respond. Honestly, I had no idea how. I'd been through so many ups and downs in one day I was completely screwed up emotionally. I had no idea whether to be sad, angry or happy.

Finally, Holland spoke up. "I don't care what it takes. Get it done. We need the info this guy has. Division's tied up with counterattacks from the Soma. Just get it done."

"Yes sir." Morrison responded. There was no way out now. Morrison wasn't going to countermand Holland because I had no experience in interrogation methods. Zarolslav walked up to us.

"Don't trust a word he says. I know this man. Soulless doesn't even _begin_ to describe him. He won't cross anyone unless it's on his terms." She said. But Morrison ignored her…or him.

"Alphonso, you take Brandon and do a field interrogation. Riba, you go with them. Everyone else, dig in. We're going to be here for awhile."

That was it. Bottom line. Here I was just a few weeks ago an eager soldier looking to fight for his country and please his family, his girlfriend, and his comrades.

As I stood there in the middle of an oil field, I was a total mess. My sister was dead and her daughter didn't have a tongue and her husband was still missing. Several guys I knew since Arizona Island were gone, some of them forever. Dulcinea was pregnant. And I straddled a strange, haunted line between brutality and indifference. But there was one thing that never changed in the Marine Corps, the authority of a superior officer.

Before I could join them, Helena Sorenson pulled me aside.

"Hold on…I have a question. What the hell does a _makasa_ mean anyway?"

I smiled at her. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

"I'll make you a deal. You tell me how you and your friend turned into the Human Flash and I'll tell you what _makasa _means."

"Fine. Deal."

"It's an obscene Yuke backwater term. She was just joking around with us; slang for…"

I took off my helmet and whispered the true meaning of the word to her. I should have felt guilty for it, but Sueltana had told me the term back in the day. My mother would have killed her if she found out I knew what a _makasa_ was at fourteen. Of course, every teenage boy knew about it…but the Oseans didn't have too many special words to express naughty innuendo. When I told her what it _really_ meant, she recoiled in disgust. Her mouth was open and once the others knew what I'd said, they were all doubled over in laughter.

"That's heinous." She said.

"Oh, please. If you've been married as long as you have, I'm sure your husband deserves to be called _that_." Zarolslav countered. "Don't try to pretend you're a prude when you're not, my dear."

Helena Sorenson's face turned red as an apple. It seemed a bizarre way to take the edge of my monumental task. Then again, how many chances did one get to embarrass a high-level, highly paid executive? She finally straightened herself up and couldn't walk away fast enough. Even Morrison couldn't resist a laugh or two. Even Alphonso found it hilarious.

It was the empirical proof that the universal language of the Marine Corps was a vulgar joke.

"Well, let's get this over with." Alphonso said, approaching me from the side.

It was almost exciting in a horrible I-want-to-brutally-murder-this-genocidal-science-guy kind of way. There was a lot of anticipation. The man who was responsible for _all_ this was right in front of me. This was a man who hunted me and my sister. He obsessed over us like we were trophies; inanimate, mannequin-like creations only for show. I wanted to know why.

Towards the end of the Versuan War, my father had dueled with an enemy ace in a scarlet Su-37 Terminator. My father often lamented over the fact he never got to meet his adversary. Of course, it _was_ obvious who won that battle. Buy my father told me this: a person's importance is measured by the people who dislike them.

As I stared at this old man, this creepy, crotchety psycho, I realized that being disliked was a virtue. Such thinking in the past was motivated only by my Alpha Male mind. Now, I had people who disliked me in my own company. I was a target.

But with that came good fortune. The same salty, abrasive old man who trained _my_ old man and my mother in aerial combat had produced this Asimov, my own adversary.

I was face to face with my arch-nemesis and I had all the leverage. I could ask him anything.

But as I found my excitement to reach a fever pitch, a quick icy dread came over me. It was kinda like the fifth season finale of _The Raven Bauer Project_. My favorite fictional heroine finally came face to face with her long time nemesis, Anderson Montague, the assassin everyone loved to hate. After a half hour, chaotic cat and mouse shootout in a shipping yard, Raven walked up to the dying Montague. He held up his hand and said, "I'm glad it was you, girl." So Raven held his hand in hers and held it until he died; a strange bit of respect. Montague did have enough of a classical air to him to merit the huge fan base he did. He wasn't a monster. He didn't kill women or kids. He had a certain style to his character; an elegant, refined malevolence that was almost impossible to believe it was real.

You could get away with such things in a television show. Most people, if they met him in real life, would've considered him an asshole. There was almost no such thing as refined malevolence in real life. Evil by any other name was evil. Such things could tenuously only exist in air to air combat, a war that was painfully sterile and abstract. It was a field in which a man like my father thrived because it was so romanticized.

I'd learned that heroism wasn't easy a long time ago. And with the ground war, with us infantry Marines…it was _hard_ to view war through rose-tinted glasses. It did not mean it was impossible. We saw the ugly, horrible side of war.

But it wasn't anger that drove me with this man, nor was it pathos. It was ambiguity.

This Asimov was evil incarnate, but he was crazy as a loon. Such things were not always mutually exclusive, but often did go hand in hand. He had to be to invent something like Seelow Rot. There was a major difference between evil men and crazy men. Evil men could tell the truth or could withhold things because of volition. Crazy men had no such option. They were wild cards. As such, I had no idea what truly lied inside the mind of this insane man.

What he told me, what he told us all, changed everything.

Next Chapter: The Seelow Deception (Part II)


	24. The Seelow Deception: Part II

Chapter 24: The Seelow Deception (Part II)

Risa and her men took Asimov to a ditch about 100 meters from everyone else. Accompanying me, Alphonso and Risa was Sorenson, one of Sorenson's empty suit men who called himself Mr. Royal, as well as Colonel Holland and Captain Morrison. Taking up the rear was Bartlett, who I was amazed at…considering he looked like he was about to fall over any minute.

It was hard to forget that the entire ground was still muddy and black from the oil around the place. What, with interrogating mad scientists and all...

Field interrogations were usually a very tricky thing. First, you have to make sure the enemy was bound properly and had no hidden surprise up his sleeve. More than once did we run into a Dogman soldier with some grenade shock for us. Nothing in Recon training prepared us for such a thing. Or rather, nothing prepared me…for what this scientist was about to tell me. I couldn't make this up. It was unbelievable. Much less, I couldn't make up how Sueltana died. How she looked before she cremated herself.

Alphonso, before we arrived at our destination, pulled me aside.

"Brandon, give me your weapon." Alphonso said.

"What?" I replied.

"Give me your weapons."

"What are you talking about?"

"We don't need any war crimes."

I was a little angry at him. Why did he think I was going to blow him away? Why, because he helped create the virus that wiped out millions of people? Why, because he probably infected Sueltana and caused her to kill herself because of it? Why, because one his underlings probably cut the tongue out of my niece's mouth? Why would he think that a simple impulse of hate would cause me to pull the trigger and end up in a prison for years? Could he read my mind? Was my cognition a sin or something, because I thought it, I _did_ it? I never did buy that part of religion. High school psychology taught me that _impulse_ did not guarantee a damn thing.

"We need whatever information this man has to offer." He continued.

And my only response was what a fan of the Raven Bauer Project would consider a root question…

"How do you even know he's gonna talk?"

"You ask _them_, then. But no one's dying today." Alphonso said. I had no idea who the hell was talking about…until he pointed back at some bodies of dead enemy soldiers laying in the muck.

I thought the statement was foolish. Even if Sueltana died the previous day, it didn't change the fact she was dead. It wasn't Alphonso's intention to offend, but it seemed a silly thing for the Sapinian to say. He was too smart for that.

"He _does_ deserve that." I replied.

"And that's why I can't let you have your gun."

_Shit_, I thought, _walked into that one._ "That's awfully presumptuous of you. But fine…"

"Not presumptuous enough, if you ask me."

"If I'm such a danger, then why are _they_ letting me interrogate him with you?" I said, pointing at the officers behind me.

Alphonso leaned in closer to me. "You're the one who deserves the answers."

"Whatever."

I felt my intelligence was insulted by everyone. I sure as hell wasn't going to shoot him…but I damn sure wanted to wish I could shoot him. They couldn't take that away. As they dragged Asimov to the designated area, he turned and gave me a sly smile. I returned it back to him…with an underhanded one fingered salute. The officers looked at me as if they wanted to rip off my hand. Bartlett had walked up as we slowed…and he thought it was funny as hell.

So the college girl, I mean…the _extremely_ young Lieutenant Colonel Risa Derushka handed me a list of questions. I thought it was bitch thing to do to write it all out in Yuke since she could speak and write perfect Osean. I was pissed already so I decided to just ask my own. They needed me to ask the questions. The man was still bound and the two guards who held the scientist took off the gag and the cuffs. Major Kanis had the two men stand behind him with their rifles at the ready. I looked over at Sorenson and I noticed she had her hand in her pocket of her black flight suit. There was a clicking sound and she moved whenever I moved. I saw plenty of sweat beads on her head. They bled onto the black Kevlar. She was burning up in that thing. However, her reaction was more anger than surprise or anticipation. Her breathing was more measured than anyone there. Her face was flushed and her other fist was clenched.

Asimov must have been a personal matter for her…but why? All I knew about him was the fact that he worked in South Belka and was a wanted war criminal. Sorenson said she was a veteran of the 2025 Versuan Oil Crisis. Did Asimov have a hand in it? Was he also involved in that 2021 Fato Crisis as well, the one that made Kaida so famous?

Asimov gasped for air in a raspy fashion; it sounded even worse than Bartlett's smoker's cough. This man deserved to choke on that rag. I would have done it for him…but I had to ask.

So I asked him.

"Why did you do this?"

He probably thought I'd ask the real question. I wasn't sure how he'd react to it, but Asimov surprised me with his response.

"You're assuming that I caused all this devastation…that I started this war, and I killed millions of people."

"Yeah, that'd be quite a rap sheet." Alphonso said. But just as I hard time taking the sorority pled…I mean, the Lieutenant Colonel Derushka seriously, I had just as hard enough of a time believing that the Sapinian was a master of sarcasm.

"Well, you'd be partially right." Asimov said.

I stood about eight meters from him originally. I moved closer to him, much to the chagrin of Riba and Alphonso. Holland nor Morrison said nothing though…something that seemed a bit unsettling at first. I had a single question for this Asimov. It was obvious considering all this war had done for everyone. We'd all suffered under the weight of this man's actions. But despite the laundry list of things, complaints, and miseries everyone had, I had the power to ask him the most important question of all. The Soma had all kinds of detailed records on me; well, not only me…but it seemed like half the damn Battalion was in the database.

Now that he'd basically admitted his role in this grand spectacle of human rights violations and war crimes, it was finally time to hit him with the question I _really_ wanted to ask him.

"Well…you wanted me…so here I am. Why _were_ you looking for me?"

"Isn't it obvious? You and your sister's genetic structures were the perfect vessels for which the Seelow virus could bond."

I froze for a minute. Now it was all starting to make sense. "How did you know about us? Who gave you all those records?"

"They did…the foreigners."

Everyone paused and looked at each other. "What?" was what most of us could only say.

Asimov sat up a little then sort of rung his hands together, as if he were some evil villain from one of those old 50's horror movies, "There were several people around Musharak's inner circle from other countries. They were the ones who brought the virus to us in the first place. But it was in a preliminary mode. To be honest, I thought it was pure fantasy many years ago: the ability to control war. "

"What were you trying to do in the first place?"

"I wanted to continue my work to create the ultimate soldier through genetics. However, in the beginning, Musharak was more interested in destruction. I convinced him to alter his plan. However, it didn't sit well with many of the incumbents of their rule."

I wasn't sure, but Risa came over to me and whispered something in my ear. It was probably some older dialect of Yuke, but the gist was: _ask him about the experiments_ or something.

"So Seelow Rot was just a failed experiment right?"

"Partially. But we've finally fixed it. We only used the failed offshoots for the original purpose."

One thing I wondered, and everyone else as well, was how they spread the thing in the first place. If it didn't hang around a long time…how did they do it?

"How did you initially spread it?"

"S-1 was a mutagen we created to combine with the virus, a one shot deal, really. It was administered through the water supply and chemical areas in three places: a water treatment plant just up the Psel River, the Archangel Dam about a 150 kilometers north of Cinigrad, and the Volgarn Lake, just on the outskirts of the city. The largest, most effective test occurred sometime later in the Bayori Forest…a place that was quite the fertile testing ground."

"What about these labs?" I asked.

"The labs had always been there. It wasn't until a few months ago we discovered their true purpose. It was a program far ahead of its time. It was called the Shiva's Eye Project. It was a study in the ruthless efficient method of chemical weapons delivery. It was to determine if mass chemical attack could be less expensive than a nuclear weapons project."

_Jackpot_, I heard Risa say. But I looked over at Alphonso…and there was extreme worry on his face. Of course, Alphonso was a student of history and he knew that anything involving religious figures of old was pretty bad.

Asimov continued, "The initial tests were a success. But the widespread damage was on an unprecedented scale. The chemical were Dioxins and mixtures of Radon, Cyanide and Chloride. The effect was mass cardiac arrest and asphyxiation, over hundreds of miles."

"Goddamn." I heard Morrison say. That was pretty brutal stuff: mass cardiac arrest and asphyxiation over district sized areas? That was pretty bad. But the more I listened to his words…the more I began to think that I'd heard this before somewhere…

"But fate intervened. Just before Yuktobania went into Verusa in the late 1970s, the program was scrapped for humanitarian reasons. It was in violation of the newly renegotiated North Point Convention of 1971. It wasn't until the National Security Advisory of the Osean government discovered one of the labs during the nuclear weapons inspection in 1999 after the nations of the world finalized an agreement for the disbanding of nuclear weapons programs. The labs were deserted. But most of the gases had been disposed of, either through dumping them into the desert or in the mountains of the Highlands."

"I guess it's no wonder the Hazri were so pissed off." I said, "So what did they do with the labs?"

"They did, however, find vials of pure Dioxin extracted from unwilling Hazri victims. Carcinogen and disease extracted from cancer victims, radiation sick patients. Ha! Ironic, isn't it! It was this that served as the basis for the virus. They spliced with DNA strands from Belkan War victims and with a rare form of blood cancer that only a few people had. Within a few years, they concocted a mutagen called 0234M I believe. Their goal was to use this device to create super soldiers all under the guises of cancer research, all done in three places: November City, Oured and Bana City."

Sorenson still kept her angry look as Asimov continued his explanation.

"They shipped the vials back to an Oured lab in the Pentagon. They farmed it out to DARPA and later the Mashshimi Corporation…the very men who created all those advancements you wear now. Three foreign born scientists were given the reins to the project. But it was a failure…at first. After the Belkan War, I'd fled the country and received a new identity. I went to work for the M Corporation, along with a husband and wife who were absolutely brilliant in their pathological research. It was they who smuggled out the virus when the project fell through."

"Victoria Glass." Zarolslav said.

"Exactly. However, once we got the formula, all kinds of problems commenced. Some favored the first type, others favored the second. Musharak actually approved the uses of both, and then _they_ set off the semi-nuke in Southern Ocktabursk."

"What the hell _was_ that about? That was what got us in this goddamn war!" Holland exclaimed.

I wasn't expecting the Colonel to explode like that.

"Was it true about Ocktabursk?" he continued.

Apparently, the good Colonel had forgotten that I was the one facilitating the questions. But again, Asimov surprised me. He actually answered the colonel after a long pause. He put his fingers on his chin and his voice rose a little bit.

"Ocktabursk. The traitors in Musharak's midst were the ones who set it off. The traitors...the very Dogmen leaders...they were the ones who brought him down. They'd been doing experiments for them…circumventing my authority! They were working on their own version of the virus: a third type…that is, one capable of killing people outright; a more painful, effective version of the original Shiva Project."

Then it came to me. That was when I remembered everything I knew about this. Musharak was one of the Sharzibe. The Soma and their leaders were devoutly religious.Musharak believed the virus was a weapon of vengeance. And this book of life…whatever the original message meant was irrelevant. It implied that some would be spared. Apparently, Ephesus didn't account for his _own_ people. Hell, everyone in the company knew that. The Soma had infected their people with the virus.

_The beast shall fight the dragons of the world and those fire demons shall be destroyed. The beasts will spread the pestilence unto the lands, poisoning them and never again shall they be lived upon."_

"Whoa." I could only say.

"They were working with foreigners the entire time! Their motives, however, I didn't quite understand...until now. Mercenaries...an entire corporation of paid assassins were allied with the faction element inside the Hazri's leadership...and it is they who will make the next move with Seelow."

"_The monster within the hearts of men shall rule. In the end, the greed of the Shamans shall overtake them. The death of the Dragons will give rise to new enemies. The monsters rode on horses covered in metal and behold…their leader atop a pale horse. The monster King called himself death and Hell followed him. The Hazri will stand against the Monsters…the final battle at the end of time."_

Apparently, this Ephesus wasn't the crackpot most claimed him to be. It seemed the passage actually _predicted_ the war I was in. _Monsters on horses covered in metal_…

If that didn't give it away, what else would?

…_death of the Dragons will give rise to new enemies. The monsters rode on horses covered in metal and behold…their leader atop a pale horse. The monster King called himself death and Hell followed him…_

"War's changed. With the proliferation of nuclear weapons at an end and the advancement of the common soldier, economic strains and…"

Then, Sorenson cut in with her official voice, "…the relative inexpensiveness of chemical warfare in comparison to nuclear programs."

Asimov laughed, "Hmm…well put… Sorenson, right. I almost didn't think you'd know I knew about you."

My mouth was wide open. "You know her?"

Asimov started rubbing his hands together and smacking his lips a bit, "Oh, yes. She and her friends in the government have been chasing me for nineteen years. It was only a matter of time before they realized I'd hid under their very noses."

I was shocked…and I wasn't the only one. I noticed Zarolslav looking rather perturbed at this.

I said, "You're a government agent?"

She turned to me and said, "I was one of the ones who was an unwilling participant in this 0234 program. But it wasn't until I arrived over here and I _myself_ was exposed to the Seelow virus…"

Everything just snapped into place like pieces of a child's puzzle.

"_Your mutation…was the result of congenial exposure to the virus through the original experimentation on your parents. Your body produced a genetic defect called Rhombus."_

"…_your DNA can resist diseases much more effectively than any other life form on the planet."_

"…_**only those who are written into the book of Life shall be spared."**_

Was this Rhombus an act of God? Was this God's plan to prevent the apocalypse or whatever it was? At the moment, I didn't care about Sorenson's admission. I waited for the mad doctor to continue.

Asimov continued, "Indeed. They'd pursued me for years after that fateful day. I took some medical records with me when I fled the country. For years, I continued the program to create the perfect soldier with the great tragedy of the perfect specimen lost in the helter-skelter of my escape. I know not who blew my cover, but I still had one last opportunity for the ultimate irony of all."

I said. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Finally, the empty suit named Royal spoke up, "He's a Belkan War criminal that's been on the run for years. We got a tip he was masquerading as a doctor somewhere in the Northern Territories, the perfect place to hide."

"An arrangement with the Osean Government's DARPA division to allow me restricted diplomatic immunity in exchange for my expertise…that being the 0234 project. They sponsored the project, paid us under the table. It took three years to set up. We injected the solution, new and improved, into certain children whom we could access. One in particular held a special place for me."

"Go on." I said.

"In 2017, A woman and a man came into the hospital I worked in. They'd gotten me a job in maternity care as a vessel to administer the 0234 Mutagen. It was sometime in August…2017. The woman carried twins...and from her womb was untimely ripped a girl and a boy whom I quickly injected. The mother was too drugged up and exhausted to protest and the father didn't offer any resistance. And I'm looking at him right now...eye to eye."

The entire world froze. Every vehicle stopped, everyone froze in midstride, planes fell out of the sky, insects and animals all stopped and turned towards me as I stared right into Asimov's verdant eyes of malice.

The eyes told all. We looked right into each other's faces. I didn't remember the face…but I somehow remembered the day I came out of my mother's womb.

Eyes were the first thing I saw because when I remembered the bright light, and the doctor holding me. I stared into my mother's chocolate eyes for the first time and I knew she loved me more than anything else. She turned her eyes toward another person. I looked left and remember more brown eyes staring back at me. They were eyes of Tasha.

But…that was probably _after_ my sister had to be resuscitated. The memory was always a mixed up one, and it was extremely strange for me, much less anyone else, to remember that kind of trauma; the first minutes of my life. It should have been impossible really, and any doctor worth their salt would have told me or anyone else so, but I did.

Define irony: a boy is born by the help of a doctor. A boy lives nineteen years and becomes a man. A young man looks into the eyes of that same doctor…the one who helped killed probably millions of people, even my own Sueltana. It didn't matter if Asimov did not create the newer derivative of the Seelow Rot. It was still based off his brainchild. This was the man responsible for all my suffering…the very man who shot endorphins into my mother.

I didn't know how to feel. It was a mixture of anger…and fear. I had fear. I couldn't react. I was stuck in ice. Asimov laughed maniacally and I didn't know if I wanted to punch him in the face…or run and bury myself in the deepest part of the sea.

"That's creepy. That is…_creepy_." Bartlett finally said. Understatement of the century right there.

"They needed you to construct the third type. They recreated you and your sister's genetic structures and melded them together with the second type of the virus. With it, they were able to create the third version. They tested it somewhere in this very desert. I was always unsure why your blood responded to positively to all our tests. You, some kid from the ass end of the world, were and still are the key to killing millions of people. But I suppose your hands already have plenty of blood on them, no? What's a few more?"

Finally, I exploded. I ran right for him, but a quartet of hands pulled me back just as I reached him, and all to the soundtrack of an laughing psychopath. Alphonso and Sorenson held me back, not an easy task. I was like a raging bull for a short moment, but as Alphonso dragged me back, the air was sucked out of me…and the rage had subsided. Cooler heads.

"Hey. Don't." he said blankly. It took me a minute to gather my composure as most of the other officers began to talk amongst themselves. Finally, once I stopped breathing hard…I looked right at him.

"What are you talking about…_are still the key_?" I said.

"Don't you know? The Soma's coup d'état forces are trying to locate the original site of Golgotha, the area where the Shiva Project laid dormant for decades."

"And you know where this is?" The sorority girl…er, Risa cut in.

"Oh yes. It's just two hundred miles north of where we stand, on an island surrounded by nothing but small standing water and rocks, the detritus of war."Asimov said, "Now tell me…how does it feel to possibly have the blood of millions on your hands?"

I couldn't say anything. But I didn't need to. Sorenson stepped in my way and cut me off.

"I've heard all we needed to hear." Sorenson said.

Sorenson called over her aides and picked up the white suited psycho. He was blabbering on about something, and the man named Royal taped his mouth shut. I heard someone suppress a chuckle. But I was not in the mood to laugh.

"Arrest? Why don't we just kill the guy and get it over with already?" I shouted angrily, "I should have had a feeling you weren't who you said you were."

Alphonso held me back a bit. I just walked away trying to put together all the information I'd heard. It was obvious what was going to happen next. We were going after the separatists and their special Eye of Shiva missile. But that wasn't a concern at the moment. Sure, the Eye of Shiva was important, sure it could have killed millions of people…but that could wait. The Soma hadn't even found the damn thing yet. I had other concerns. Sorenson wasn't an executive. Imagine that, eleven or so days ago…I'd have given anything to be away from her. I'd just staggered into the tent after some…intimate tomfoolery with Dulcinea, and subsequently I was the father of an unborn child. I really didn't want to talk to her. I just wanted out. There was something shifty about her then, and now…that was pretty much on the money.

But I liked her. She was a former Marine and she didn't sit behind a desk. She killed people back in 2025. She was a poster child for the capitalist way, a champion for the Osean dream. She was a family woman, a devoted wife, a decent person at the _worst_. She was the exact opposite of what I expected a person in such high pressure, high risk position to be like.

However, a government agent? That didn't compute. Bartlett, Alphonso and I followed her over to her original area.

Most of the others were packing up equipment by the time I'd walked over to her.

"Well, your sister made a pretty good guess at the time."

"So you really don't work for H-Corp, huh?"

"I do…and I don't. I'm actually acting on behalf of the CIA...me and my sister." She said.

She opened her small wallet-sized pouch and produced a picture. In the picture was a wedding photo. Two grooms of different heights and weights were standing next to two brides. On the left was the curvaceous, violet-eyed russet-haired, Helena Sorenson…and the other woman…one rather curvaceous…purple-eyed…brown-haired…woman; two _identical_ looking brides. Sorenson smiled once Bartlett, Alphonso, Zarolslav and I looked at the photo.

"My _twin sister_ is the true H-Corp Executive of Military Personnel Affairs. Her name's…Hilde Sorenson. She's here in country...but you've never met her. Or maybe you have technically...ha!"

"Twin sister? You have a twin sister? Are you goddamn kidding me?" I shouted. Sorenson put her hand on my shoulder and smiled.

"Pretty sneaky, wouldn't you say?" Sorenson said. "I'm actually the Hephaestus Corporation Executive of Nuclear, Chemical and Biological Weapons Compliance Advisory under the Department of International Justice…Bright Hill, Osea.

"You work for the Pentagon too?" Bartlett said slyly, "Makes sense."

I was too shocked to even respond. All this time…I'd thought my mother was wrong about Hephaestus as a greedy, bottom-line corporation whose number one goal was money. I thought they were a noble company who got a bad rap for their business. It turned out we were _both_ wrong. H-Corp was partially…government run. They wouldn't sell weapons to anyone they didn't think could upset the Osean people. There was a tiny snip of uncertainty about them, but it didn't seem there was anything substantial to it. It was all too weird for me.

"So…you both were infected with this stuff?"

"Indeed. It's a…long story."

I smiled a bit. "I never thought you'd be the chemical warfare czarina."

Sorenson brushed some hair away from her eyes. "I didn't either."

She prepared to leave, but I held her back. "How much did you already know about this?"

"A lot, but the only X-Factor was running into Asimov. Now we can finally expose this operation. Now all that's left is to arrest Kaida and his bunch."

The connections were too much for my brain to handle. "WHAT?"

"Listen. I have to leave. Your sister's in grave danger. There's no telling what these mercs will do if they ever get their greedy hands on that virus."

What I said next…I don't know what brought it out. It just happened.

"I just…" I said. Sorenson turned and looked at me as the helicopter started to whir.

"What?" she said, just loud enough to get the voice over the chopper blades. Wind and mud, sand and oil went everywhere. Her face was covered with muck and I cleared off the mess from my visor.

"I don't know how I'm going to explain this." I said. She then grabbed my hand and folded it into hers, putting her left hand on top of mine.

"We don't need to explain why we do what we do."

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" I said.

"Well, when I get around to it, I'll tell you. I'll know where to find you. I always do."

As the aides packed up the malevolent scientist and all their equipment, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hold her to it. A cold feeling came over me. Sorenson's chopper kicked up the wind and disappeared into the aqua horizon and all I could wonder was what danger Tasha was in. There could have a million artillery rounds that hit our area, and I would have felt greater worry for Tasha than anyone or myself. And Kaida was involved too. What was his stake in this? I still couldn't believe it. What exactly did she mean by grave danger? The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't believe Kaida's involvement. However…the man _was_ a war criminal anyway. He basically admitted it when he, his boss, and his colleagues were questioned about the travesties committed by the Spade Six mercenary corporation in the 2021 Fato Crisis. But it was still sobering. Why would Kaida's men be interested in a virus that could kill people in horrifying ways?

I'd seen what it had done to Sueltana. There was no way. There was no goddamn way that Kaida was going to get his hands on that. That was who those mercenaries were. They were probably paid by Praetorian.

But how could the very company who was hired by H-Corp be the same ones who were trying to take the virus for themselves? Then again, I knew enough about my parents and history to know this: there were always people in the Osean government who could cover up stuff. They knew that all too well. But at the moment, there was too much in my head to process. I separated myself from everyone and found a pit to sit in…just to collect my drained mind's thoughts.

Everyone was all over the nets. Confusion reigned.

And me? There was a mixture of anger, regret and indifference. It was not a stretch to think that same thought I had when I nine; me, a boy, unable to come to grips with Sueltana's sojourn to her homeland. I was a child that recalled tears that hadn't been shed in years, those held so I could be free to be the hero, the knight…the man. And there she was, dressed in that white skirt and the strange wooden-sandal she always liked.

It was isolation inside even though she said she'd visit us. It wasn't good enough for me. Her journey left me in a world where nothing made sense for a brief time. It was more than enough to consume the mind of a nine year old boy.

Now it was ten years later. What I'd seen at nineteen would have caused my nine year old brain to explode from an overclock of emotion, memories and the harsh truths about me, my sisters, my parents, my mentors, my girlfriend, my superiors, my entire life…even my enemies.

I'd parachuted into this country under fire over 21 days ago. I'd walked across fields of petrified forests, dried lakes, glassified soil, and skeletons of man and beast. I'd survived enemy gunfire of all sorts: tank fire, mortar and artillery fire, mines, IEDs, car bombs, suicide bombs, bombs from enemy planes, booby trapped corpses, grenades, RPGs, flamethrowers, bayonets, C4 charges, the Soma's people…not to mention three different kinds of chemical weapons.

I came with a variety of people, fought alongside them, saved them, and even watched them save me. I came with smart, level headed officers (Dickerson and Morrison). I came with deeply troubled and misanthropic men (Walt, Rico). I came with journeymen from foreign countries (Tristan and Sheck). I came with guys who drank too much and partied too hard (Micho and Eric the Red). I came with guys who were incredibly skilled but incredibly dishonest and fickle (Hoot and Cameron). I came with brothers-in-arms who were linked by their mirth and unique take on everything (Adrian, Demetrius). I came with simple men who asked the right questions from time to time (Chapman). I came with the wily and wise (Alphonso, Gray).

We'd shared all kinds of experiences. I told plenty of stories of the filthy, hilarious and silly kind: one about a bizarre, you-can't-write-a-better-movie-script story about a movie star, me, my mother, Tasha, a homeless guy, a cat, a horse and a lingerie store in Hollywood. In return, they told me stories of raunchy nights, heavy drinking and subsequent run-ins with the MPs, history, stupid pranks and stunts, police stops gone bad, gambling disasters, drug-fueled stories, incestuous thoughts (and the person who told this story shall remain nameless…but it shocked even me who it was), and other bizarre tales of life in the Marine Corps…some of the most amazing things I've ever heard. We'd endured many days without adequate sleep, some with no sleep at all. We battled insane weather conditions.

We'd all killed. We'd inflicted untold amounts of death and destruction on the enemy we all fought. It was a story of bloodshed, suicidal resolve and senseless collateral damage. All of it was needed to stay alive, and even through all that, a few of us did not. We'd seen innocent people die, their bodies (and enemy ones as well) strung along the sides of roads, crushed under tank treads, and burned beyond recognition. It was all a necessary evil. And yet, some of their deaths were no doubt inflicted by Allied hands.

We'd seen children, orphans of war. We saw them pick up weapons and kill themselves. We saw them pick up weapons and kill the enemy…or even each other. They turned on each other; one time, some kid bludgeoning a girl to death because she dared to break idiotic religious rules. We saw and killed civilian people who turned on us, even if they were influenced by a virus. I still shuddered when I thought about it.

What had this war created? It was a nightmare that I couldn't wake from.

Why did I come to this land? It was more than because I signed my rights away on a piece of paper long ago; I quickly accepted that. It was more than a nuke going off in the middle of a gigantic city or a virus unleashed on this place. What I truly take from it?

Sueltana Devia was dead. Jakob was missing. Their daughter would never talk again. Things that went well turned out disastrous. The very same people we rescued from Saint Marie du Maurine were people who helped create the virus that set this series of events into motion.

How would my mother think? How would she come to grips with the fact the man who breathed life into my sister and yanked me Kei Nagase's abdomen…was the _same_ man who infected _them_ and _us_ with mutagens and helped kill thousands of people?

The only positive thing that happened was that Dulcinea had survived all this. Of course, I'd attached some reproductive baggage to her but that was all good news. Back then, I couldn't wait to be a father.

And yet, how would I explain this to them? How could I sit my son or daughter down and tell them the story of my life? What could I say to them that wouldn't give them nightmares forever? How would I even share this with Dulcinea? What could I say? My parents got away with it since their war was idealized and video-game like. My war was filthy, nasty, bloody and it was filled with cabals of corrupt and evil men, disturbing things created by them (an understatement) and

What was I going to do when I went home? What would happen to Dulcinea and our kid if I died? What would happen if I received a grievous wound that kept me out of the service?

I felt so alone then. Then it hit me.

It was something Walt said at the time we put on our airborne gear at the start of the war. It was an innocent, uncertain time. We had no idea what to expect. Twenty days ago seemed like an eternity as I sat in my hole. My life had changed faster in two weeks than it had in nineteen years of life. Everything in time rushed to catch up to me. I didn't look any different, but I felt longer and older. War did that. The sleepless nights, the stress, the lack of showers, the poor nutrition…it had caught up to me.

It was something Walt said while he did what he was good at: bitching about everything and everyone. But he said something during that session of complete moronic diatribe that I didn't think a lot about at the time, but as I sat there alone, I realized it made perfect sense.

"We're all alone, man. Nobody's helping us."

The context of that word, alone, was obvious at the time. We were going in with little or no support from the rest of the Marine Corps, much less the Navy or even the Army. But the context had changed. I was a point in nothing, a dot, a speck in the middle of a field of sand. I was just one tiny bit of the universe. I just wanted to be with Dulcinea and my parents again. I wanted to be with Tasha again, _anyone_ other than the people I fought with. Here, all I felt was the sense of seclusion, the doldrums of a confused and manipulated mind…in a war that had no answers or made no sense.

I sat there for at least twenty minutes, alone and content in my solitude.

But it didn't last long, as I heard shouts and hollers from my left. I got up to inspect the rabble and Sergeant Sheckenhousen came running over to me.

"Dude, did you hear?" he shouted at me.

"What?"

"Captain just got some news over the Battalion net. Musharak's dead!"

Then, it wasn't a point in nothing. It was a point in complete shock.

"What?"

"He got popped this morning."

When he said that, I became almost giddy. It seems my murderous desire had finally been vindicated.

"Really! Who pulled the trigger on him?"

"Well, Adrian thought it was probably the janitor who worked in the government building, but I suspected it was someone with a little more skill."

But I had to ask, because I was a dreamer sometimes. But everyone wanted their wildest dreams to come true. Thus, I asked. "So…does that mean the war's over?"

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Probably not. But hey, at least we're getting somewhere."

The second he did that, took it off and walked away, I remembered back to earlier in the war and I laughed at something I heard him say. "Hey, Sergeant."

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Well, I guess they won't be changing the holidays in your favor."

Sheck had a rare look of total puzzlement on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You remember when you said if you were within 600 meters of Musharak, they're going to change President's Day to Sheckenhousen Day."

Sheck laughed, "Oh, yeah…you _actually_ remembered that?"

I gave it a short pause and said, "I remember a lot of things."

It didn't matter really. The war wasn't over. They knew it, I knew it.

Walt was right. Sheck walked away and there I was in the small hole with my desire to get back to Dulcinea and out of this hell. I just wanted to be back in Sand Island, burning the sun into my skin and live life. I wanted that walk with her along my shoulder and those times when we'd make fun of people's ridiculous clothes in the Soho. These were all _my_ thoughts. I'd spent all this time trying for a complicated answer to all this. There were no answers anymore. It was all just me and my thoughts, my desires, my will to survive. It wasn't Micho's issue back in Dajul. It came down to me and my finger on the trigger. Ironic that the most belligerent man in the entire Marine Corps found the ultimate truth about us all. My sister, Dulcinea, me, my parents, Sueltana, Astrid, Micho, Alphonso, the LT…we were all in the midst of this spider web and yet, it was all up to us, no matter whatever decisions we made.

We were all alone.


	25. The Secret about War

Chapter 25: The Secret about War

_The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. - John Milton_

_**Dulcinea**_

**September 12, 2037**

**Anchorage National Airport**

**0800 hrs**

The winter always came early in Alaska. I stepped outside the airport and I could have sworn the weather was completely different the last time I came to this place.

I was nervous. That was probably the lightest way I could put it. It was strange how your entire life could change on a dime and you just took it. Then, one day…you wake up and everything changes. The entire world is upside down. You don't know what to do, and you're left with nothing but a blank expression on your face. You're on your own.

That was my life for the first few months of the year. I was certain that somewhere in my parents' homeland, my lovable soldier boy thought the same thing I did when I got off the plane.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

If it was old times, the thought wouldn't have crossed my mind. But it did as I stepped out of the airport gates and needless security stations…and into pandemonium outside.

I forgot how much time I spent in Yuktobania. I got back to Osea and that fact had been drilled into my head, even before I walked into my parent's house. Somewhere along the line, I realized how much I missed my mom and dad. Somewhere along the line I'd turned nineteen. Somewhere along the line I had a wonderful gift inside: a beautiful, yet unborn child.

Somewhere along the line I had a chance to touch and see the boy I loved so dearly. There were more than enough people in Sand Island and hell, the woman sitting next to me on the flight to Alaska, who'd never get _that_ chance.

Their families had been broken. That woman next to me lost her brother and her sister over there. Her husband was lucky…well, as lucky as one can be for someone who got shot in the leg by a friendly fire. I could barely hold back my tears. I'd heard the same story repeated many times…in just the _few_ days I'd been home.

Somewhere along the line…I'd forgotten how quickly war changed Yuktobania and Osea.

I'd gotten used to death and destruction. At first, we were all smiles. We thought we were doing a good thing. But as time wore on, it became maddening. But truthfully, for all the things I'd seen…I'd been spared the worst. The worst was reserved for the soldiers.

To think, all this got started because I did something stupid and thankfully no one else got hurt. Everything I did after that was penance, of course; but it was during that time I stopped being the spoiled girl who got by on looks alone. It took me crashing into a bus stop to make me realize how stupid I was, not just dating jackasses like Rico Lazarus and that Jason guy. It was almost comical if it weren't for the lives at stake. My mother told me to just forget about it and stop worrying about the war.

How? How the hell would I manage that?

It was horrible. The war had affected everyone in my family…Brandon's family, Micho's family…everyone. There were at least twenty people in Brandon's hometown _alone_ who were in Yuktobania. They had families too. His parents had friends whose families were also suffering because of this war. Everyone was touched by it, not just the link between me and Brandon.

War had changed Osea in more ways than one. It was a toxic environment everywhere. The sharp division between political sides was incredible. Cops were everywhere, everybody on television had an opinion…and there were times I wondered if anyone even knew what they were walking about.

At first, everyone was on board. My friends and I were worried that we'd be overrun when the Soma made their push for the South. We cried, we prayed, we hugged each other…we prepared for the worst.

Then, it was like an avalanche. An avalanche started slow, always with a few movements of snow. More and more snow get involved…and gravity takes over. What you have…is a white wall of death.

That's how it happened. First it was Hephaestus, and then it was that QCC incident, the Queue bans, President Shelley taking a PR beating…

_Why was I here?_

When I returned from all those months in Yuktobania, I was greeted by my parents. I remember crying and hugging them until I couldn't breathe anymore. I was so happy to see them. I stayed at their house in Sand Island just outside Cara's Cove. There was some demonstration going on the next day in Sade D'lafate Plaza. My parents warned me not to go, but I went anyway. I wanted to see what the ruckus was about.

There, I ran into my cousin Charlotte. She tried to get me involved in the protest. She and her husband had been swept up in the wave of anti-war movements. There were signs all over the place: _No Blood for Oil, Shelley the Lying Snake, Declare a War + Politics + Corporate Involvement = No First Amendment Rights_. Then things got ugly. There was violence. There were arrests. There were vandals. There were deaths. My parent's house was broken into while I slept there. They tried to spray graffiti inside the house.

Sand Island was not a safe place anymore. It would only get worse, I knew.

I was scared out of my mind. I figured the one place I'd be safe after all this time was back home: no more. When it became apparent that this was happening all over the country, I no longer felt safe. I don't know what came over me. More than likely it was my unborn child that heightened the urgency.

I wanted to stay with Brandon's family. I only wanted to stay for a little while until things in Sand Island calmed down, but they insisted I could stay as long as I wanted. I really thought the gesture was more than was needed…until someone threw a firebomb at a cop car no less than eighty feet from me.

I got the hell out of Sand Island.

Things had become so venomous that I couldn't even step off a plane without running into protestors. I was pushed around as I left the place. Some protestor wanted me to sign a petition and I ignored her. So…she called me a _scab bitch_ and started pushing me. She knocked me to the ground and I screamed for help. Some security guard ran over and she sprayed mace in his face while she fled.

I grabbed my bag and tried not to cry like a little girl, which in some ways…I still was. Brandon's mother was supposed to pick me up but as security arrived and things became sketchy…she was nowhere in sight.

My heart raced. I couldn't sweat if wanted to because it was about to rain. I was slightly underdressed; the pink jacket wasn't cutting it in thirty three degree weather. My jaw moved quickly, my teeth chattered a bit and I shook like a little kid standing in line at the restroom. Finally, like an archangel…I saw a black coupe pull up. Through the window I could see the bundled up Mrs. Lovecraft, brown scarf and all.

"Get in." she said through the cracked window.

"Mrs. Lovecraft!"

I didn't waste any time and ran for the passenger door and got in as cops showed up. We drove away and my savior pulled off the road.

"Sorry, I'm late. Are you alright? Were you waiting long?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for getting me out of there." I said. She then reached across the seat and gave me this incredible hug. I put my arms around her and I actually cried for a bit. It was strange…this woman made me miss the boy I loved even more than I already did.

"It's so good to see you, sweetheart." She said. Her voice was a little rough; she must have been sick recently or something.

"I just wish the person we both want to see was here."

"If _he_ was here…it'd be a perfect reunion." It was then I noticed that Mrs. Lovecraft had me in a vice and I had a hard time trying to make out words. Women were always more affectionate towards each other anyway…but this was a little much.

"Um…Mrs. Lovecraft? Could you please let me go?"

She dropped her hands and said, "Oh, sorry."

Mrs. Lovecraft was a wonderful woman. Unlike my mom, who was the same age as Brandon's mother, Mrs. Lovecraft aged pretty damn well. Her hands were small and bony, but her deep chocolate eyes had an ocean's depth. Her hair was cropped to her shoulders. She had on a dark wine-red blouse beneath a brownish coat and her pants were heavy black or something of that nature. I couldn't tell the material. It was something she'd probably wear to work.

Oddly, she wore two watches on the same hand. But there was no telling what was truly inside this woman's mind. She had incalculable genius, or at least that's what Tasha said in less complex words. But sometimes she was the kind of person who could ramble on for hours about the most mundane subject. But she was the perfect person to pick brains with. After all, I wanted to know something about Brandon's parents…something very important.

Somewhere along the flight, I realized I had bad timing. I heard through the grapevine that Sueltana, the oldest of the siblings Lovecraft (even though Suetlana wasn't actually blood-related), had died in Yuktobania. Brandon spoke of her often as inspiration and even though he didn't describe her too much, it was clear that this woman had a special place in the heart of my boyfriend. I was sure I was obligated to bring her up, but shouldn't. But like many times in my life, I did it anyway.

Besides, it was a long drive to Pikes Hugo. We hopped onto Highway 55 and I finally brought it up.

"I heard about Sueltana…sort of. I'm…"

"Don't worry. You don't need to burden yourself with that."

I paused and said, "Brandon didn't really talk about her that much…at least to me."

Mrs. Lovecraft couldn't help but smile. "She was the sweetest person in the world. My son adored her, wanted to be like her. Ironic. My husband and I found her in the middle of a terrible war…only to find her a casualty of another one."

We didn't talk for about ten minutes after that, and it was after that lull that I decided to ask her one of the most important questions I'd ever ask.

"I wish this war would end. It just takes away the people we care about."

But the matriarch didn't hesitate, "If I had a dime for every time I said that..."

"What's it like?" I asked, baiting her.

"What?"

"War? What's it like?"

Mrs. Lovecraft stammered a bit, and then finally opened her lips, "I don't think I'm the right person to answer that."

"Brandon told me that he always wondered what war was like…and when you and his dad told him he got excited."

It started to rain at that point. I thought it was rather cliché and perfectly timed at once. Mrs. Lovecraft waited for a few seconds and spoke. Every word carried a lot of weight. A white car sped past us on the highway.

"We all get excited about war…at first. To the young, war is only a series of moving pictures and pixels, guns you can't use and awe-inspiring people shaped like gods and goddesses."

She paused and continued, "_They_ are beautiful. The shows they put on are incredible. A tank fires a round at an old car, an F-22 passes above you with the roar of its vectoring engines…and you think it's the coolest goddamn thing in the world. You can't help but be obsessed with the men and women who drive or pilot their war machine with almost a poet's touch."

She sniffed a bit, no doubt from her recent sickness, "In your bed, you lie there in your pink jammies and your stuffed animals…and a poster from an air show on your wall. You don't have a mom or a dad and you life in a shell of your mind where anything is possible and everything is better than reality. You dream about having wings to be set free from a wandering life where every family you live with is either insane…or insensitive."

It was then I realized that perhaps I'd gotten more than I bargained for. I wasn't sure if she was telling me what war was like…or if she was telling me the story of some, perhaps her, tragic childhood.

"Huh?" I said.

"One day," she continued, "you grow up and realized you endured all that for the chance to have your own wings. But all around you is competition. You fight for everything. Orders and cadence, routines and terms become a monotonous necessity and you become it. In order to become the bird, you must live like the hatchling…then you realize that you're merely reliving those childhood trials."

She took her left hand off the wheel and wiped her forehead, "Slowly, you lose your anger and you're attracted to the ambiguous beauty around you. Through it, you're constantly reminded of why you did it in the first place."

I noticed that she didn't even look at me the entire time she spoke.

"War is…merely an aspect of life. It's taken me nearly thirty years to accept it…but it'll never go away. It's exciting at first because of all the same bells and whistles you saw when you were young. It's exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. But its luster goes away the longer you fight. It's easier for the pilots. We can't assign a face to our enemy."

"War means something different to everyone. Some view it as an outlet for the violence. Others view it as necessary. Some view it as a game of survival. But in my opinion, we throw around the word _war_ so much it's lost its meaning."

"Maybe that's why it's so horrible." I finally responded.

"Now that I think about it…politicians love war. Maybe it's their way of showing the public they're doing something. All it's doing is ruining lives."

That begged the question, "Then why did you let Brandon and Tasha go there…if you think it's so horrible?"

Mrs. Lovecraft's voice lowered and she seemed like she was about to cry. "No matter how hard I try…there's no escape. War is everything. It's a business, it swallows up the desperate and the patriotic, it saves lives, it takes them…"

The Lovecraft matriarch snorted, "What does the hell does it matter if I hate war so much in the end?"

"All we can do is do what we can, right?" I said. I'm not sure if Brandon or Tasha said that originally.

"Where on earth did you hear that, I might ask…hmm?" Mrs. Lovecraft replied with a chuckle. "Brandon and Tasha chose their own paths…just as I and my husband did all those years ago."

"I wasn't even _born_ when you guys were tearing up the skies overhead."

A smile came back to her lips, "You know…you're just like Sueltana sometimes."

That was a difficult comparison. It was kind of disrespectful…in a weird way. "I don't think I can compare to her."

"Well, you're beautiful, intelligent, and you apparently love to listen to people yak about anything. Plus, my husband has this uncanny ability to pick the right female for _anything_."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I think he sees you and Brandon together for a long time."

My heart skipped a beat. I would have loved nothing more than spend the rest of my days with him. "I'd enjoy that."

"It makes me want to fall in love all over again with you two."

The words were music to my ears. We passed by a few road signs and I changed the subject again.

"This place seems so alien now. When I came back to Sand Island…it just like getting off the plane here."

"War does that. When we came back from Versua, nothing was the same as we left it. It changed everyone. My husband and I, Lillian, Cormorance…everyone. Everything changed. Maybe if there's no war…maybe there's no Brandon or Tasha. You wouldn't be here talking to me now either."

"That is true."

Mrs. Lovecraft's voice turned acidic again, "Maybe if people in Bright Hill didn't like to burn things to prove a point…there's no war."

I tried to remember why I went over there, but the words of this woman next to me were strong…and made a lot of sense, "But what's different about this war than back then? We went over there to help the people…right?"

"No, we were just pawns, really. Technically…Osea wasn't attacked, but they lured us in anyway; they did it no matter what they did to us."

_What the hell was she talking about?_ She had to have been talking about something in her past…but what?

"Excuse me?" I could only say.

"Nothing. You wouldn't understand even if I told you…or if my son told you for that matter."

"Ooookay…" I said.

"What I'm trying to say is…no one goes to war of their own accord. That fate is decided by men and women whose children won't end up dying in the mess they start. That fate will belong to people like my daughter's best friend who died over there a few days ago…and everyone will just watch the news and not even give a damn. They remember and feel sorry for their families, and they turn off the television and no one can think of anything else to say."

"Because she's not rich or has her own television show...no one cares, right?"

"True heroes are the ones who ask for nothing more."

"I wish I could say the same. I don't even think what we did over there really mattered in the end. And yet, it seemed like everybody over there was there just to be in this club of those who could say…_hey, I did something_. It was bullshit, really."

I wasn't one for cursing in front of people I didn't know, or people in higher authority. So I was surprised when I caught myself swearing in front of my boyfriend's mother. I saw my face in the mirror and it was beet-red. I expected Mrs. Lovecraft to be a little upset with me, but…

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Mrs. Lovecraft put on a look of seriousness. "No, you're _absolutely_ right. War doesn't just destroy. War can bring out the worst in the people who hate war."

She adjusted the mirror and took a look at me.

"It _is_ bullshit." Mrs. Lovecraft said, her tone at its most bitter, "And what we've done has meant nothing."

_What was she saying? Was she really saying this?_ "You guys were heroes."

"I'm not a heroine anymore Dulcinea, sweetheart. I'm just another mom hoping I don't get a visit from some officer now. My husband and I fought all those years…my friends gave their _lives_, only for the same bullshit to repeat itself! Goddamn it, we haven't learned anything! But you wouldn't understand what that means."

"I _want_ to." I interjected, "I want to know if Brandon's gonna feel the same thing…if…if he comes home."

"Who knows?" Mrs. Lovecraft said. She shook her head and my own began to ache.

At that point, I decided to shut up. All I wanted was an answer…and I inadvertently opened up old wounds. But I had to know. Not only me, but I knew my child would have questions of their own someday…

***

_**Dulcinea**_

September 12, 2037

Pikes Hugo, Alaska

0845 hrs

We didn't speak again until we reached Pikes Hugo. I'd only been here twice before. The town was pretty ordinary; nothing like Sand Island…it was nothing like Soho down near Grafton Street that could have doubled as town itself. Pikes Hugo was pretty linear. There was Middleton Drive and 1st Street that intersected in the middle of town, a circle driveway where a statue stood. It was three nude angels, a commemoration of the town's founding back in 1859. Apparently, the angels were representation of the nuns who'd helped found the town. Most of the people lived in this area, but St. Mary's Street was where all the pricier houses where. This community was where Brandon lived.

St. Mary Street was on a rise and winded its way up and down the thousand foot hill. The Bohr couple, the Lovecrafts, the Charles' and the Alou family, along with a few others, lived on the highest point. We turned onto the hilly road. As we made the climb, I looked down into the valley. In the distance was an incredible landscape filled with the outlines of ice and snow on trees and mountains. It was breathtaking. We reached halfway and Mrs. Lovecraft spoke for the first time in nearly twenty minutes.

"I should warn you…the house is a _little_ crowded. We've got everybody and their mother around the place. But it's safer than Sand Island."

"What's going on?" I asked. We hit a bump in the road and we both jerked up a bit. The rain still came down and Mrs. Lovecraft had to drive rather slowly.

"One of our friends is a former veteran, she's basically family to us…and her…girlfriend slash…fiancé or whatever…" Mrs. Lovecraft said, rolling her eyes and trying to hide a laugh, "is planning some big media event to support the troops. This place is pretty nondescript. Everybody pretty much keeps to themselves here."

Media event? That was news to me. "Wow, that's awesome."

However, as we finally pulled into the main community there, there wasn't some amicable feel of Small Town Osea. Most of the houses on were either a shade charcoal or ice white. Every door had a star or two on it, some houses even had fake flowers, roses, pink and yellow adorned on the front lawns. She really didn't need to say it…I figured it out on my own.

"This war has not been kind to our town." She concluded. She started to point out houses.

"We lost Sueltana, one of our neighbors kids', Mary Charles…she was killed a week ago. One of Brandon and Tasha's schoolmates Walter Snow, I'm sure you've met him…he died four days ago."

"Wow…I had no idea."

"Poor Walt. He was such a horrible kid…but I felt sorry for him sometimes when he wasn't doing something stupid. And…his father never even got to see him as a baby…"

I knew Walt and he was someone who deserved every bad thing that happened to him. The few times I met him, he always obnoxious and I wasn't sure why Mrs. Lovecraft would have sympathy for a guy like that. It was terrible he died and he did not deserve it…but can one have been surprised? And this all came from only a few meetings with him. I was pretty sure that Brandon felt the same way…and he lived with him his entire life.

I looked to the left and saw a girl, probably nine or ten, in front of a silver and black house. She was rather bundled up and she was in front of a pile of flowers. She was trying to place a cover or something over it because of the rain. I guess Mrs. Lovecraft saw me staring at her as we drove by.

"That's Astrid's best friend. Her dad was killed after he was held hostage by the enemy…but they only just found out two days ago." She shook her head and continued, "Then Damien…he was paralyzed from the waist down; vehicle accident." Mrs. Lovecraft continued, "What a terrible thing to happen. He was the best track and field athlete in the state."

Mrs. Lovecraft concluded, "It's…it's not been a good few weeks around here."

We finally pulled up to our destination. The house was painted a mixture of pale white and powder blue. It would have been just any ordinary abode save the people living in it. That was why I liked the Lovecrafts so much, not because they treated me so well…it was just a strange combination of the sensible traditional family model and the oddities and fascinations that surrounded them; something that could describe my own family. They were no more cordial than any of the people on Saint Mary Row. The last time I came here, Mrs. Bohr helped me change my flat tire in the middle of the night…and I had no idea she was in the same Marine Division as Brandon.

However, there was just something else to the Lovecrafts that I couldn't explain, a longing…a desire to be one of them. I wanted to be _Dulcinea Lovecraft_. It sounded beautiful.

All adorned across the sheltered porch were wooden items, metal chimes, bells, little birdcages, a hammock or two…it was like a country store exploded on their front lawn. She opened the door and a blast of cold air rushed out the door. I remembered that Brandon's dad liked a cool house. His reasoning was so people could adjust to the cold better; a sound theory…but I freezing my ass off in the process of contemplating the logic of it all.

Then again, there was another reason…

The carpet was ice white like the outside of the house. The couch was also the same color and Mrs. Lovecraft really didn't like anybody but guests sitting on that couch. I, like the little girl I could be sometimes, was still rather nervous about it, but the matriarch insisted. So I sat down…but not before I almost tripped on a series of computer cords.

All around the living room were computers, television sets, cameras, and wires. My god…there were wires! They all led into the left room near the kitchen, which was Mr. Lovecraft's office room. Then, I heard a series of familiar voices. They were growing louder as they obviously approached us, but it seemed cavernous at first. That probably meant they were coming from the basement.

"…but their leader is dead. This war has to end pretty quickly now, doesn't it?" said the unmistakable regal voice of Mr. Lovecraft.

"Cut off the head, the serpent dies right?" said a female voice. Was this the "friend" Mrs. Lovecraft mentioned?

Next, there was the sound of a rather high-pitched man, "Brother, do you remember what happened back in Versua? Remember when that old Masson guy…"

"Sasha's father." _Who the hell was Sasha?_

"Yeah, whoever. Remember what happened _after_ that? They sent a huge airship on a counteroffensive…damn near wiped out a city!"

I deduced that voice was probably Micho's father, Cormorance Alou. The trio of voices became three people, Mr. Lovecraft, Mr. Alou and the female "friend" who was actually a crimson haired woman in a olive and white dress. There was also a fourth tagalong…a teenage boy with thick glasses; a kid that looked oddly familiar to the black haired man next to Mr. Lovecraft. It was probably one of Micho's brothers. I didn't hang around with Micho that much anyway, he was an alright guy…but there were times I thought he could be a complete asshole. His wife was a bitch too, so I guess he married the right woman.

"Oh, hello! God, we have such poor manners!" the woman said.

"How are you honey?" said Mr. Lovecraft to his wife.

So Mr. Lovecraft came over and his wife kissed him, then he sort of lifted her in her a bit…much to the confusion of the woman and the bored, mocking look Mr. Alou had to a scene he'd seen _way_ too many times.

The first time I saw this, it was a little awkward. That was the time Brandon introduced me to his parents. They did the _exact_ same thing a year prior.

I finally grasped the weight of Mrs. Lovecrafts' words about love.

The closeness they had was substantial and theirs was even more so than the other tightly-knit families I knew. It was nothing that could be put into many precise words. It was a feel. I noticed it from the first time I saw Brandon's parents together. They'd been married for twenty nine years…some couples weren't that close after twenty nine _months_. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

All it did, however, was reinforce the obvious…that the missing piece of my puzzle was getting shot at overseas.

…and for what, really? Was it as really as simple as religious and political crazies deciding to light a match and start a fire?

So finally, they cease the lovey-stuff and Mrs. Lovecraft said, "Fine, and I brought back another special guest."

I gave Mr. Lovecraft a small hug. Both Mr. Alou and Mr. Lovecraft weren't what I thought of when you considered their ages. Both of them were clean shaven, dignified people. Although Mr. Lovecraft clearly wasn't a fan of the fancy business attire that Micho's father wore pretty much _all_ the time. He was the complete opposite of my father. My dad was rather humorless and plain. Mr. Lovecraft was ordinary, but he wasn't easily offended by jokes and was rather laid back. Nothing ever bothered him…or at least, he wouldn't let anyone see if he _was _concerned.

"It's good to see you Dulcinea. I trust you didn't have a rough time at the airport. It's all over the news." said the father.

"Not much." I said.

"Well, this is Helena Southerland, my wife's new best friend."

Southerland came up and put her arms around me.

_Why did that name ring a bell or two?_

"And I'm sure you know Micho's dad." Mr. Lovecraft said, pointing at Micho's father.

_Not really_, I thought. I'd only met him twice, and they were just on the way out the door nearly a year ago.

He came up and shook my hand, "So you must be Brandon's girlfriend. I'm sorry I never got to meet you in person. I know Sand Island's a little chaotic right now, so I want to welcome to the manhood shriveling, ass-end of Osea."

Both Ms. Southerland and Mr. Lovecraft did a simultaneous face palm.

"Cormorance! Could you please show a little more tact?" Mrs. Lovecraft said, a scowl on her face, "And she's been here before!"

"What? It's the truth, isn't it? _Sorrrry_." Mr. Alou said, his voice sarcastic, "Jesus Christ, Kei, you just love to bust my balls."

"Micho said you weren't one to mince words Mr. Alou." I said. Just then, I thought that I shouldn't have said that.

Mr. Alou rolled his eyes a bit when he looked at Mrs. Lovecraft. "Damn right I'm not. Forgive me; I'm a little stressed right now. See, Micho's wife just had their baby yesterday, my youngest daughter has the flu and…"

"Oh my god! That's wonderful! Why didn't you tell me? Aw, I want to see the baby so bad." I said.

"Well, we're gonna have to wait. We're still trying to figure out how to hook up this webcam." Mr. Alou said.

I looked to the left and the teenager was tangled up in some wires and moving and equipment left and right.

"Is this for the…show or whatever?" I asked. I looked at Brandon's mother for an answer, but it was his dad who answered after exchanging confusing looks with Kei.

He started by nudging toward Helena Southerland who became just as tangled up as the kid next to us.

"No, her daughter was in my daughter's platoon. Her whole damn company got wiped out by some virus or something…isn't that right?" Mr. Lovecraft asked the red haired woman.

Ms. Southerland added, "From what I've heard…but she can't talk about much."

"Anyway, some locals rescued her and hid her in a dumpster. Apparently those Soma freaks broke her leg while they tortured her and the survivors for whatever they wanted. I don't think anyone else survived."

My heart sank, and I didn't even know this girl. "That's awful. Is she okay?"

Mrs. Lovecraft cut in, "As luck would have it…our son, the superhero…plucked her from the dumpster and she's back in one piece. She's at a hospital on the Kestrel II."

I then asked, "Whatever happened to Tasha? I heard she was hurt really bad."

Suddenly, the teenager cut in with a computer cord in his hand, "The word's _wounded_ girl. Injured is a _weak_ term."

Suddenly, Mrs. Lovecraft grabbed the young man by the collar. "Joachim! What is your problem young man?"

_Ah, so that's who he was._

Joachim recoiled in confusion and embarrassment. Of course, my mom would have done more than that but that wasn't the point. Cormorance broke the two of them up, "Kei, what's your problem! Jeez. Can I handle my own family please?"

"I'm just being honest dad," said Joachim, "You say that to mom all the time!"

It seemed that Joachim, much like his dad, didn't mince words either.

"Okay, okay…cool it you guys." Mr. Lovecraft interjected, "I'll help Dulcinea get her stuff into to Tasha's old room. Honey, could you and Cormorance make sure you don't tear each other throats out for five minutes, please?"

Brandon's father led me around the and to the stairs.

"Those two can be so childish." he said, a tiny smile on his face, "They've been at it since the Verusan War. And Micho's younger brother," Mr. Lovecraft said, "I see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But he knows much more about this technical stuff than I do."

We walked up the stairs and entered the barren room where Tasha Black once made her life. Other than the bed, the drapes and curtains, a cabinet with the mirror, and the purplish paint there was little inside, however, to suggest she'd lived there at all. There were no cute little posters, no stuffed animals, no old makeup cases left behind, not even a tiny bug or two. It was as sterile as a hospital floor.

I walked inside and placed my things on the floor. I turned to Tasha's dad. "Thanks for letting me stay here Mr. Lovecraft. I didn't know you guys were…"

The regal patriarch stood in the doorway, his posture lazy and unconcerned about my serious talk.

He waved his hand and said, "Don't worry about it. These days, we all have to be a little closer, and safe for that matter."

I knew that Brandon had already told his parents I was pregnant. I was worried about that, but perhaps Mr. Lovecraft was merely speaking for the past when he said what he did. There were many other things I was concerned about as well. Or maybe I wasn't concerned because I knew they figured they'd burn that bridge when they came to it. But like in the past, I felt obligated to ask or say _something_. It was a huge deal and I needed some reassurance.

"Look, I wanted to talk about…you know…Mrs. Lovecraft told me that Brandon told you that I was…"

"Don't worry. I'm not worried at all. We've got bigger problems right now, and Ran's a smart guy. He really cares a lot about you."

"I know."

"Just relax, make yourself at home." He said, and he prepared to walk out the door. I took two steps toward his back.

"Umm…Mr. Lovecraft…umm…can I ask you a question? I mean…a serious question?"

He didn't hesitate. "Sure, anything."

He came back in and closed the door behind him, which wasn't surprising to me at all. Brandon told me his father liked one on one conversation. Oddly, I didn't stammer out my question at all.

"What is war really like?"

And with that question, Mr. Lovecraft burst into laughter. "You asked my wife that in the car, right?"

"How did you…"

There was a knock on the door and Mr. Lovecraft's face flashed a brief annoyance. He opened the door and redheaded Ms. Southerland poked through the crack.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt David, do you have another recorder? Lillian just called from the plane, she wants to listen in whenever Carile gets on the videophone." said Southerland, rolling her eyes and chuckling when she spoke.

"Oh, umm…it might take a few minutes. Just wait here, I'll be right back." said David.

Mr. Lovecraft left and the redheaded Southerland walked and sat down on the bed next to me. She didn't look at me initially, her head up towards the corner of the room. Her face was not of haughtiness; maybe she was considering her words. She was absolutely beautiful. Beneath her Asura Gaersi glasses, her eyes were like auburn mixed with liquid fire. Her nose was a bit long, but it was perfectly shaped where the bridge and the gaps were all evenly matched. Her cheeks were flat, but not so her face looked pancaked…like my mother. She was gorgeous, but there was no fooling me. Her entire body screamed plastic surgery.

"We're the luckiest people in the world, you know." She said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. She smelled of cherries and oranges. I preferred the pixie candy scent of perfume, but I knew enough that whatever Ms. Southerland had on was worth its volume in gold.

"I mean, that man's son is…he's a true hero. I have no idea what I would have done with myself if he hadn't found my daughter. Well, maybe someone else would have…but that's what he wanted to do with his life."

"Yeah."

"I mean, all those people who found the love of my life as well…I mean, that's the reason I'm doing all this. I'm tired of all these _people_…all these so-called _experts_…after the fact trying to tear down these people because the government lied or we didn't need to be over there. Our embassy was attacked too. I'll bet everything _they_ don't even know why they're protesting anymore…apparently violent demonstrations are _in_."

Then, I looked away for a moment. I wasn't sure why. I knew she described my Brandon perfectly and summed up everything Mrs. Lovecraft said in person. Ms. Southerland grabbed my chin and pulled it towards her.

"But heroes really do exist." She said. Her eyes were like liquid jellies. She spoke as if her words had much weight. The moment was broken up when Mr. Lovecraft trundled to the door and shook the recorder in his hand.

"Helena, I found it. Just go ahead and set it up, I'll be down in a few." He said, tossing her the recorder.

Southerland let me go and left me with Brandon's father. He came and sat down in Helena's place…but not as close. His face had a stern look to it, but he smiled a bit. I guessed my face must've had its most awkward position.

"So, you want to know what war's like. Well, that's a difficult thing to answer." He said.

I paused for a long ten seconds before I spoke. "Do you think the same way your wife does?"

Mr. Lovecraft was equally as long in his delay. Then he finally responded, "My wife's very bitter about her past and the world today. Part of that has to do with everything we've done since we were your age. Ran and Tash overseas don't help matters, but that's natural; she's a mother and that's what mothers do."

"Tell me about it." I said, noting the irony of it. It was a habit now, but I padded my stomach, even though there was no sign of my child there. I was not alone in catching that.

"Ironic for _you_, isn't it? That's why I don't worry _too_ much."

"Because of…"

He cut me off, "_Exactly_. My wife's angry at the world and I understand her frustration. This war's been difficult for everybody. Practically every neighbor I have has a relative over there. Some…some have left us forever."

He had a sad look for a few seconds. He turned away and then turned back. "But I still have faith. Not faith in any supernatural force…but faith in the people around me. Including you…and the extra little stowaway you brought with you." He said with a smile. I couldn't help but smile too.

He got up and prepared to walk out the door.

He continued, "I believe in Brandon and Tasha. Whether they make it home or not…that may not be _entirely_ up to them. Believe me, I know. The only thing we can do is believe…and live."

"You didn't answer my question." I said, a bit defiant. I was desperate for an answer, but I was surprised at my tone. So too was Brandon's old man…

"You're just like Sueltana. She'd never let anything go." Mr. Lovecraft said. "War is like a black hole. It's an alien, valueless thing that is invisible to many but noticeable to whatever's close to it. It has no weight, but its effect is enormous; and then it's finished, you have little left to show for it."

I knew Brandon was a smart person and he got it from his parents, both of whom were smarter than him, his sister, me and my parents combined. I wondered if they spent all their youth reading philosophy or something. How else could they come up with such amazing metaphors and stories? It was a slow realization, but I finally understood what the old man was trying to say. And yet, it wasn't a true answer. All he did was explain what war was _to_ him…not what it was like _for_ him. I didn't question him any further though…

I was exhausted. The weight of the trip, the emotions, the longing for Brandon, the stories of this town affected so adversely by this war…it all came down like a weight.

"I think I understand now. Thank you."

Suddenly, Mrs. Lovecraft yelled from downstairs. "Hey! The webcam's set up! We can talk to Carile now!"

Brandon's father prepared to leave when he said, "Come on. Let me show you this thing, it's amazing."

I was, however, not in the mood.

"No thanks. I'm sorry…I need to be alone for a little while." I said. The old man nodded and smiled.

I let Mr. Lovecraft leave the room and he closed the door behind him. I got up off the bed, turned and walked to the window. I stared outside as the freezing rain came down. The sky was still gray and the raindrops were like tiny crystalline fragments. I placed my hand on the glass. The window was ice cold and condensation formed there. There was but only a longing in my heart for the boy soldier I loved.

Was history right? Was it merely an endless loop of violence, kept at bay only by the heroes of the world? I still didn't have an answer. But I had to know what war was like for the people who fought in it. I saw terrible things, but at least I was not in harm's way. Brandon and all his friends were risking their lives every day, every hour and every minute. Was he in some vicious firefight as I stood there in Tasha's room? And what about her? _What would happen to her?_

Would he be the same when he was older, bitter and cynical of the war he fought so hard in which to become a hero? Would he lose hope too? Would he too tell angry, bittersweet stories about his past to our children? I just wished I could go to sleep, wake up and the war never have happened. I'd be with Brandon in my mind's happy place and the world would never have to endure that terrible struggle. The people who'd lost their loved ones would be given one more day on the planet with them.

I closed my eyes and opened them again, but the world hadn't changed. My eyes started to hurt and water. I closed them again and felt a tear or two come out.

"Where are you?" I said to myself.

***

**Brandon**

**September 13, 2037**

**Seria Wastes, Upper Crasia Outskirts – Jilachi Desert**

**0630 hrs**

Sheck was right. The war wasn't over by any means. We'd heard reports of the Soma launching massive counterattacks against the Army to the north. Jilachi was strangely quiet, however. There was no beautiful sun this time. The sky was choked with smoke and gray skies from the rare rain that the desert received.

Our regiment moved into the area of the Seria Wastes to bolster a regiment of the 82nd Airborne. Morrison told us that High Command believed that the Seria Wastes and the Upper Crasia region would get hit hard by an enemy counterattack as well.

The Seria Wastes were an interesting part of the desert. The area was at a slant and led into Upper Crasia, the part of the Jilachi the Oseans were most familiar with from the last war here. The sand was a deep, mud like brown…a place where many fierce battles had been fought. That and it was also a notorious landfill zone. But by now, we were used to the smell of burning trash and waste. We prepared to set up our defenses.

The town was adjacent to a pair of bridges that were prime real estate for us and the enemy. The Soma certainly didn't let up, even when their leader was dead. That was extremely discouraging…but then again, it was really a wake-up call. We should have seen it coming. I tried to put all the distractions out of my head, but it was difficult…to say the least.

However, I wasn't the only one that wanted to go north and find that facility that old crazy scientist spoke of. Risa and her men, as well as Bartlett, vanished sometime earlier. They were headed to the south, somewhere near Dajul. I still wondered what my parents would think if they ever found out their old mentor was still alive.

Sueltana was gone and I knew how they'd react to that. But her memory would mean nothing if I or any of the others, didn't survive this war.

The Company HQ was in a small house on the east side of the town. Just across the street was a series of small shacks and makeshift residential buildings on top of regular structures. Back in Recon School, we'd conducted urban warfare training in a wooden version of such a place. It was hell trying to deal with shooters above and below. Micho was actually in the basement of one of these structures, but what he was doing there was beyond me.

I walked inside and saw there was a mixture of dust and wooden debris. The cabinets had been ripped apart, shell casings were everywhere and rats scurried about. Overall, the place was sturdy enough. I walked down the dimly lit stairwell into the basement; Micho had lit a chem-flare and placed it on the ground in order to see. He was fooling around with something. What it was I couldn't see, but there were wires everywhere.

"Micho?"

"Yeah?" he said, twisting the yellowish wires together. Then I saw what he had in his hand. It was some kind of phone receiver; an _old_ one at that. My parents were aging, but even during their youth _those_ phones were dying out.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm setting up this old phone. Apparently, those Hazri idiots forgot to sever the land lines when they abandoned the place. Alphonso taught me how to do it back in training."

"You can actually call out?"

"Yeah. I'm just checking on Rachel. Her stomach's probably about to burst at this point."

War was a funny business. Any other time, a pregnancy was huge news. Because of the Soma and their mad religion and dubious motives…such a thing got pushed to the backburner.

I laughed and said, "Yeah, it _was_ the size of Usea, last time I checked."

Micho dialed the phone once he finished reassembling the device. He'd disengaged his helmet, which wasn't really a wise maneuver anyway, but it would have been awkward (not to mention extremely difficult, if not impossible) to talk to someone on a phone with the UWS helmet on. For a few seconds, we were quiet, but with much anticipation. We were like two boys waiting to open our gifts.

"I got a dial tone!" Micho said cheerfully.

"Are you calling the folks first?" I said. He didn't answer me, but he did answer the phone with…

"Hey mom! How are…"

There was a series of strange shrieks and screams of excitement. It was obvious that Micho's mother, Potenza, was happy to hear his voice. That was, however, strange for the usually low-key Potenza. Her _earsplitting_ jubilation was the equivalent of Tasha's going a day without complaining about something: a miracle.

"Mom! Please…calm down! You're gonna shatter my eardrums!" he said, putting the phone back to his ear. "What?! When did this happen? Oh my god…why didn't you tell me earlier? Hey, don't be a smartass about it…no, I will not watch my language! I'm getting shot at here and the last thing I'm worried about is…okay. Where is it? Thanks."

I could barely make out Potenza Alou's mumbled words; that is until she said something to the effect of: _do you want to speak to your father?_

"Yeah." Micho said…

…and he briskly hung up the phone. I couldn't hold back my laughter.

Micho raised his hands in the air. "Brandon, I am officially a father now! The Alou family line continues on!"

Micho and started slapping hands. "Wow…when did it happen?"

"Yesterday! My son came in at seven pounds even."

"Wow. That's great, man!" I said patting him on the shoulder.

"Now we just have to wait on Dulcinea. She should be home, right?"

"Yeah."

Of course, _waiting on Dulcinea _was going to be a long wait.

"Well, you can call her after I'm done talking to my wife."

I was a little unhappy. First off, I knew Rachel's nature. With that knowledge, it was obvious what Rachel's disposition would be post-birth: bitchy. It would not end well.

"I would think Rachel's probably a bit wiped after pushing a seven pound Micho-clone out of her body. I think she can wait."

"Well, a happy wife's a happy home." Micho then paused and said, "It's kinda weird though."

"What do you mean?"

"I was thinking about what that crazy scientist guy was saying about you…and now my son's here…I hope he doesn't have to go through this too."

I didn't want to revisit that just yet, so I quickly tried to change the subject, "I don't think he will. Frankly, you're gonna be going through things that you didn't wish for, I know that."

"Please. I lived with six brothers and sisters. Nothing shocks me."

He was right about that. Dealing with his family was like going into a jungle. There was a lot of wonder, a lot of messiness, a lot of insanity, and I was not for lack of worry.

"So when your son throws up all over the place…you're just gonna take it in stride, right?"

"Hell, I've been through worse."

Micho was right about that. In fact, we'd both been through worse. We were in a war zone after all; changing a diaper, waking up in the middle of the night, and letting people _ooh_ and _ah_ your kid while hoping he or she doesn't get sick seemed more…_accommodating_ displeasures.

"Rachel! Baby, it's me!" Micho said, but as a quick aside he also added, "Please don't scream over the phone."

Again, I couldn't help from laughing. Micho continued to talk and I could hear Rachel's ginger voice, a stark contrast to the nature I expected from her.

"You named him after my parents…that's unbelievable. I had no idea you were so creative with your Versuan. Of course, Brandon said your Versuan was goddamn awful…"

_Son of a…!_

Talk about stabbing a person in the back.

"Micho, you…!" I said, making a grab for the phone.

"Okay." Micho said, putting the phone to his shoulder, "She says she's gonna dropkick you when she loses the baby fat."

_That's more like it_, I thought.

I snatched the phone from Micho and said, "You might be waiting a few months for that."

Rachel laughed, "Well played. I swear to god, if you were anyone else I'd already have reached through this phone and slapped you into the middle of next week."

"Has anyone ever said you take things _way_ too seriously?"

"Well, maybe. You just keep my husband untouched or I'll strangle you with this IV cord."

"Look, I've got _real_ enemies trying to kill me over here."

Rachel then laughed for all she was worth, "Goddamn it, I'm just screwing with you. You'd think you'd be used to this by now."

"I haven't gotten used to a lot of things over here."

Once again, that was a lie. But, as Rachel often would, her tone changed almost immediately when she spoke again.

"Seriously though…just keep my husband alive, kid. Please."

There was nothing condescending about her voice this time. I didn't hesitate in my response though.

"Don't worry." I said. Oddly, it was all I could think to say.

I gave Micho the phone back and walked away to leave the newlyweds to their lovey-dovey talk. I missed Dulcinea even more. There was only the memory of her shiny hair and those star lights that were her eyes. Not to mention the fact she had another life inside of her. It was only a tiny, tiny speck of humanity…but it was _our_ tiny life there no less. When Micho hung up the phone, the dust in the air moved, dirt particles on the ground jumped only slightly…and we felt the earth move beneath our feet. We didn't need to be told what that was.

Just as we prepared to move, someone spoke for us over the radio.

"Incoming!" I heard the unmistakable voice of Lt. Dickerson over the net.

Artillery. The modern terror that, even after 100 years of usage and improvements to every other weapon on the battlefield, still struck fear into every infantryman's heart. No, those blasts were not mortars. We knew what mortars could do. No, these were the shockwaves from the dark hearts of thundering howitzers…or whatever the hell the Yukes enemy used for artillery.

Micho and I prepared to move as an earthquake's blast poured into the building above and nearly brought the basement down on our heads. The blast was substantial enough to knock us off our feet and as we tried to recover…we saw a pile of debris crash down in front of our only way out.

Just like that, any hope we had…faded as quickly as heat into a freezing wind. I could feel the beads of sweat on my face. My heart rate shot up and it was clear that we were in serious trouble.

"We're trapped!" Micho said.

"Wait…" I said. Two more blasts…three more…and it was over.

"The artillery's stopped." Micho said. _No duh_, I thought.

Blissful silence. I heard screaming above, but everything was back to normal…somewhat. I radioed the others to let them know our situation…but why didn't I feel at ease? Something wasn't right. Artillery usually lasted longer than about a minute. Even the Soma, who in the past had a pathetic element to their attacks at times...even they made their strikes count. Something was off.

The debris was pretty substantial; rocks, bricks, and pieces of metal had completely blocked the entrance. We began to move some of the debris, probably not the wisest move since the structure's integrity was much more precarious than I thought. For about three minutes, we worked…then in a moment of quiet I heard something along the back wall.

"Did you hear that?" Micho said, having heard the same thing.

The back wall contained nothing but gray bricks stacked halfway up the wall with some kind of concrete barrier behind it. There was a bang against it…then…

Voices.

The voices were in Yuke. They were whispers, but I could swear one of the voices said: _prepare to breach_…

_Oh…shit_, I thought to myself. We drew rifles…

Dickerson shouted something over the radio. I thought he said Condition One. There were gunshots heard as well. Of course, we both knew what that meant. We pointed our rifles at the wall and all of this was in the span of a few seconds…

And just like that…the wall collapsed and dust particles swallowed whole the debris that was jettisoned into the air. And through that dust came several murky silhouettes, combat fatigues from head to toe. Only, they weren't shadows. Their uniforms were dark as night and their weapons were advanced beyond anything we'd ever seen. Micho and I pulled triggers at the same time they did…

There was that mere horrible thought, a quick strip of our perceived invincibility and for a moment…I thought Micho and I wouldn't make out of there alive.

Next Chapter: Relentless


	26. Relentless

Note: I made a mistake with the dates with the previous chapter; little rusty I suppose. By the time this goes up, the dates should be fixed. Also, if you get a chance, glance back over Chapters 16 and 18 and 20. I've tightened up the story there.

Chapter 26: Relentless

**Brandon**

**Seria Wastes, Upper Crasia Outskirts – Jilachi Desert**

**September 13, 2037**

**0630 hrs**

They were rather surprised to see us. I just pulled the trigger.

"Watch out!" I said.

I didn't fire directly at the first guy I saw. Micho took care of him. No, I fired at the shadow behind the initial figure. It wasn't intentional…it just happened that way. Back in Recon School, the same thing happened when we were learning the nuances of close quarter combat during Urban Warfare week. I guessed my aim was off just a little…but not bad enough to where that was my last shot.

I got lucky then. The bullet that hit was the one that counted. But it was essential to the soldier to be good more than lucky. But luck did play its role.

It didn't matter. There were four dead bodies at our feet within a few seconds. They were not elite. They didn't even use a freaking flashbang grenade or anything of that nature.

Their voices were obviously Yuke. I guess they thought it would have been like shooting fish in a barrel. Maybe they didn't hear us.

"How the hell did they get underground?!" Micho shouted.

"This is Juliet One, we under attack from all sides!"

"This is Nineteen, we've got foot mobiles underground in Two-Beta!"

I heard the constant radio chatter. It was happening all over the place.

"_Team One, rally up in Two Beta. Go!"_

"_Enemy spotted outside Four Alpha and Beta! They're coming in from underground!"_

"Let's see if we can find our way to another area!" I said.

But just we did, a part of the roof collapsed. It was to our right so we ran over to it. I wanted to see if we could use our rope to escape through the hole. We looked up and saw the hole that led up to the next floor; an opening that was too high to jump and not secure enough to climb without rope. Then I looked up and saw a figure appear at the top of the stairs, but Micho called it first.

"Adrian!" Micho shouted. It was indeed the wannabe white rapper at the top of the floor. For whatever reason, he didn't have his helmet on.

"Yo homies! Grab on!" he shouted and down came that thousand pound test rope we climbed so many times in training.

I didn't know what was better, Adrian lowering a rope or addressing us as _homies_ in a battle situation. We climbed up the side of the building's wall, using the collapsed supports to make our way up. After a few seconds, Adrian pulled me out with one hand. We turned and pulled Micho up. However, just as Micho came out, there were a few shots fired up through the hole.

"Hostiles! In the basement!" Adrian shouted.

_Well, no duh Mr. Obvious_.

There to greet us was the majority of our team, but I could hear the chatter of Chapman and Jenks while they engaged hostiles in the next building.

"Get some C4 in there! We'll seal the tunnel!" Teller said.

Peter began setting up a pair of C4 charges and dropping them down into the hole. We ran out of the house into the street. To the north of us, Riba's unit was engaged with hostiles across to the street.

The town had been divided up in several main areas. One Alpha was a small restaurant of some kind and it was Team Two's OP. Two Alpha was Company HQ and it was in some kind of small office building. Two Beta was where Micho and I was before we were ambushed. Two Alpha and Charlie were the shanty buildings next to us. Three Alpha was a some kind of grocery store, Three Beta was the parking lot near the store. It was our fall back position in case we were attacked and had to abandon the town. We'd set up three roadblocks, one with Team Two on the western edge of the town, one with part of HQ company near the north road, and part of Team One near the store. To the south was a road that ran diagonal to the town and led to the bridge that led into Upper Crasia proper. There used to be a river there, but Seelow Rot and the droughts put an end to that.

Then there was Four Alpha and Beta. They were just the skeletons of buildings destroyed by bombings, the residents of this town having fled long ago.

We were about to destroy another one of these buildings.

Teller shouted over the radio. "All callsigns, we got a controlled det at Two Beta in thirty seconds! Move! Move!"

We ran across the street and a dust storm began to kick up. It was like we were in some old western movie.

"Fire in the hole!" someone shouted, probably Peter.

Peter pressed the button on whatever detonator he had. I wasn't an expert on C4 or the detonators. It wasn't even technically old school C4. It was this new compound that was invented ten years ago.

There was a rumble beneath our feet and every opening on the first floor of the middle structure. The center part of the building collapsed under its own weight. The other two buildings took little or no damage, but the job was done. We set up in the small building right behind One Alpha, which was adjacent to the Company HQ. The place had to be either another office building or a delivery area. There was a gigantic hole in the rear of the store and part of the building had collapsed. We could clearly see the almost endless desert from the front. However, storms began to move in. The distant sky was charcoal black.

We moved some old desks to create a barricade in the rear as Lt. Frost's attachment reported shots fired as well.

The fire tapered off for a moment and Micho decided to make a nice little point.

"There goes the phone." He said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jenks asked Micho.

Fire erupted from Four Alpha's way.

"Nevermind!"

A series of black and brown fatigue wearing troops emerged from the buildings in front of our position. Almost immediately, Riba's squad opened fire on the enemy unit.

"Twelve o'clock!" someone shouted.

I couldn't see exactly where the enemy was coming from my position at first. It wasn't until I exited the building and ducked behind some old metal container that I saw the full number of enemies.

There were a _lot_ more than I thought…

The buildings were 150 meters away, give or take. I guessed there were at least four dozen enemies pouring out just Four Alpha _alone_.

"They're coming out the woodwork! Light 'em the hell up!"

_Light 'em up_. I was tired of people saying that. I'm sure it sounded cool in the moment, but it was rather _obvious_ that when the enemy shot at me…I'd fire back, strict ROE or not.

"Damn! Hostiles! Nine o'clock!" Wash shouted.

The enemies were on the roofs of the same buildings, one of which we'd destroyed.

"Where the hell did they come from!?" shouted the LT.

"RPG!" someone screamed.

The blast erupted just above our heads. It hit the top of the building and the concussion was enough to knock me down. I'd been knocked down before…and I guess I was lucky it didn't hit me with any shrapnel. Maybe I over did it because the LT came running over to and picked me up.

"On your feet, Corporal! You're still in one piece!"

I looked up and saw the unthinkable. The bridge was down the road and coming up from the distant road was the unmistakable outline of vehicles…huge ones at that.

"Tanks! We got tanks inbound!" Riba shouted from down the street.

As burning rain of cordite combined with the storms of dust, I saw some monumental figures in the distance. At a second glance, it was oddly familiar. Through my scope…I could clearly see tanks…but there was fear, devastation in my heart. They each had two long barrels in front and spikes for treads. It looked almost alien. We all saw them and there was a shared jolt of terror at what we were actually seeing. They were the same metallic dragons we saw an eternity ago in the Gublina.

Samizats. I counted twenty of them.

"Holy shit, yo!" Adrian screamed. He spoke for all of us.

The blasts came quick and furious. The street was torn up and Riba's men barely had time to evac the building before it exploded from a distant tank shell.

"Medic!" someone shouted.

"All units, this Alpha! Fall back to Three Alpha, break!" the Captain said.

We didn't waste any time. We were about to be overrun and we were too strung out along the middle of town to be any good. Someone had mentioned the enemy was probably elite paratroops of some kind. I heard all kinds of incessant radio chatter to support that. It didn't matter really. Hazri paratroopers? That was one thing…but tanks were another. The main barricade was to the southeast part of town. There was an old grocery store and the parking lot which was covered in sandbags and concertina wire. We wound our way through the area as enemies to the south began to shoot down the street.

Blasts came down all over the area and we retreated inside the store to regroup. There wasn't much inside except ruin. Everything inside was empty, rotted or stolen. There, Morrison was shouting orders to the others as we tried to make something out of this blitz attack.

"Get the AT weapons! I want all Harpoon gunners up now!" he shouted. "This is Werewolf Alpha, require immediate air support in Grid 29, Point 119-X200N. I repeat…"

The tanks were firing some kind of shell that came on an arc. They weren't big enough to be artillery rounds, but too small to be mortar rounds. We'd seen this before back in the Baston and Gublina…terrifying stuff. Dickerson's team pulled back as they tried to collect the wounded from Riba's group. Most of them took heavy hits when those tank shells started flying.

There was no open vantage point except at the front door, so we decided to move back out into the parking lot to get a better view. HQ group had taken up positions near the entrance.

The entire roof shook once, and then part of it gave way all at once. The dust cloud filled the area, right over where the produce section probably was. There was no one over to the east side of the store, but it was enough of a shock to send us running for cover. Just as we managed to regroup, another blast tore through the place. I felt something crash into my back and everything was dark. A huge weight was my partner. A large pile of rubble had crashed on me…but my initial fear that I'd died was put to rest. It only felt like a lot.

Some of the other guys got most of the rubble off of me. Then I heard screaming…

It was Micho. _Oh shit_, I thought.

"Micho!" I just shouted. I ran over to him. "Medic!"

I looked at my friend and there was blood everywhere. Gray and the other Corpsman had gotten there before I even thought to run to him. I was one of the few that arrived. Most of the others had fled the building. I didn't even notice that parts of the building were still collapsing.

_How bad had he been hit_, I wondered.

Micho continued to scream in pain…and as I moved around the docs…I saw the full extent of the damage.

I wasn't sure if it was irony. That word often got thrown around too much. I'd just talked to his wife and promised I'd keep him safe not fifteen minutes prior. This was a true disaster in many ways. Not only did I fail to keep my promise…we were being overrun by enemy armor and the entire company was in disarray. It could have been worse…he could have died. But his survival, even with Gray's expertise wasn't a guarantee.

His left arm had been severed off.

I had no idea how it happened. Did a large piece of shrapnel hit his arm just right? It couldn't have been the explosion itself; that would have killed him head on.

Despair. Desolation.

There was my best friend and together we did countless things both stupid and wonderful. He'd seen to my entertainment for years. I stood at his wedding as the number one wingman. We'd been through countless hours of training and PT, suffered and bled together as brothers from different moms and in war as well. He was always my go to guy.

With Walt gone, we were the last of the Alaska brothers in this war. But as I stood over the kid I'd spent so much time with, almost ten years in fact, I realized those times were at an end.

I would have to face this enemy without my partner. I was a flight lead without a wingman.

"No! No! GODDAMN IT!" He screamed.

I didn't know where his left arm went. Gray had quickly managed to stop the bleeding with some special shot…I wasn't sure what he used. It wasn't the RM…the Regen Matrix wasn't going to help a severed limb _that_ much. More of the building became unstable and parts of it started to collapse.

Gray began to get the others and they lifted Micho. I tried to help, but they wanted me to stay away.

Riba shouted, "Captain, we need to book! The place can't take much more of this!"

"All Werewolf units, this is Alpha, get out of there now!"

We filed out of the building as more explosions came in. The building collapsed and we spread out over the parking lot expecting the worst. Enemies now converged down the street.

"Hostiles closing in from eleven o'clock!" someone shouted.

"Hit him with everything you've got! We're falling back to Three Beta!" someone else shouted.

I stopped; I tried to look back for where Gray and Micho were. They'd move out of the building but I wasn't sure where. Wash grabbed me by the shoulder.

"Don't stop! Keep moving!" he shouted.

Just as well, I imagined. A shell hit the corner of the grocery store and took down the entire front of the store.

We ducked behind some cover, which was really just a set of old, rusted pipes. There was an explosion just in front of us; probably a small mortar shell or a grenade at about 200 meters away. The black suited Soma, or whoever the heck they were, massed near our original positions and began exchanging fire with us. Some were firing from the dirt berms near the road parallel to our position. Morrison shouted that we were being flanked, but it didn't seem like it at first. All the guns were essentially in front of us.

None of the enemy paratroops had landed near the parking lot. Most of them had landed to the north and west. I didn't think it so was bad planning from the enemy as it was the chaos of the situation. Much like our first combat drop in Baston, which felt like ancient freaking history by the time we got to Jilachi, they came under fire and dropped wherever they could. The Captain may have been right…but it certainly didn't feel like it.

My thoughts momentarily turned to Micho's situation and wondered if they'd be able to evac him at all. It was clear that the enemy's full on counterattack had finally reached us and there was no telling what other chaos occurred along the front line.

That was a silly thought, though. Of _course_ they'd evac him.

The real problem was what I should have been thinking about before: the tanks. Tristan and Willis, who took Rico's place, had knocked out two of the T-922s to the north. It had bought Dickerson's team time to fall back. But I knew there was a third and a fourth around the area.

I noticed that next to me was Wash, which was odd since Chapman was _supposed_ to be there. However, he'd retreated to deeper cover near the LT, who stood behind a series of shipping crates. The Captain was on the other side of the parking lot still screaming for air support. That told me one thing: there was a _hell_ of a lot more enemy tanks than I thought.

I fired a few shots back at the enemy, one shot hitting an exposed Soma soldier at center mass. He clutched himself and fell backwards over the berm. Adrian thought the way he fell and rolled down the hill was pretty funny. I guessed it was, but my concern was not being crushed or torn in half by a goddamn tank. One of the other AT guns, probably Tristan, screamed its payload into the air and over our heads just as I tried to reload and take another shot. It was to the west of our position however.

I panicked until I heard a loud blast. I crawled to the other side of the pipes and poked my head around the other side. At about 500 meters out, there was a burning vehicle there; one I hadn't seen! Apparently, it came over the crest in the hill and the astute Estovakian rocket man saw it before anyone else did.

But just as that happened, everyone could see that one tank wasn't alone…

I turned and ducked back behind the pipes as the whirl of the Harpoon guns tore into the buildings down the street. There was a sound a moment later; well…more like a soft drone of an engine or a machine. Oh, I _knew_ what that sound was. A huge smile came over my face. Planes.

My dad flew one of these specific types of planes a few times himself. But I didn't need to say anything…

"What the hell's that?" Allen asked.

"A-10s inbound! Watch out!" The LT screamed at us.

Some of the others ducked. I didn't. I looked up and I saw the silhouettes, and rather ugly ones at that. They weren't that fast really, but it seemed that way. I counted them: _one, two, three, four…and five._

The A-10s paint scheme was a shade of camouflage and a little powder blue too. They approached in a line and I could hear their faint radio transmissions. The quintet burned over us at top speed and like the breaths of a Dragon, they spewed out the flames of Gau-8 Gatling Gun hell on our enemies. The paint scheme was a shade of camouflage and a little powder blue too.

It was almost beautiful. The A-10s kept a reasonable distance between themselves as they did their bombing runs…if you could call them that. They were not exactly _bombing_ runs, more like _Air-to-Ground Missile_ runs. They struck out from the wingtips like snakes and in a few fell swoops, destroyed just about every building in town save the one we defended.

"Hell yeah! How you like that?!" shouted Cameron from the other side of the parking lot.

Some of the others cheered as well…but it wasn't like the old days of the war. Back in those simple days of wandering around the drought and deserted Baston Forest, fighter jets were part of an experience shared by all of us, and yet it meant something slightly different to each individual Marine. It was like your birthday, your anniversary, and every horrible childhood nightmare all rolled up into a single split second of destruction.

I had a deep breath and turned away from the smoking ruins. I sat on the ground, my weapon lazily hanging from my hands, but I couldn't smile or get excited.

I wish it would have been as easy as Raven Bauer's routine after an explosive climax: simply plop down somewhere, have a cigarette and call home and say hello to the kids. Course, her hands would be shaking, the pretty makeup smeared, the suit torn and slightly burned in places…and her face covered in specks of blood, dust and grime. If that was my life, I'd just pretend I was back with Dulcinea and this war never happened.

Walt was dead, my sister was in a hospital, Micho was on his way there, and Dulcinea was alone back home.

I wished it was that easy.

It was then I realized I was still on the ground and everyone began to move around. The enemy had been dispersed, the tanks destroyed and now my moment of complete serenity was at an end…and rightfully so. Wash had walked over to me and extended his hand. He lifted me off the ground and suddenly…every panicked thought crept back into my head. What about Micho? Was he alright?

"Damn, the Army saved our asses this time." Wash said.

"Tell me about it." I replied. My head darted around as I looked for Gray and Micho. Morrison had rallied up all the officers for a minute and they all talked to us. I ran around the other side of the LARA barricade near the road, but there was no sign of either of them. I turned back around just as the lieutenant called us over. I ran back to my original position as Teller and Alphonso came running up, some of the others lagging behind them.

The LT walked over to us, rallied the team.

"Now what?" Wash asked the officer.

MacGruber looked at the smoking ruin of the town. Just as he did, the five A-10s flew back over us. Their normally quiet turbo engines were loud as a thunderstorm. The officer looked sullen as he turned to us.

"We get ready for round two. Looks like the Soma's not done with us yet."

It wasn't going to be that easy after all. Fire began to pick up once again on the edge; just a few shots here and there. In the past that would have bothered us; instead, shots fired weren't much concern as we stood in the middle of Jilachi. Then I heard the distant blasts. More artillery.

"Incoming!" someone shouted. There was a massive blast in the road and it threw us all into flight, some of us more literally than others. The cries for medics went out and it seemed that the LT's words were right on the money, as they usually were.

"It's gonna be a long ass day!" Wash shouted as he and I dove for cover behind one of the berms.

***

_**Dulcinea**_

**September 13, 2037**

**Pikes Hugo, Alaska**

**0800 hrs**

The day came and went in the blink of an eye. After my moment of loneliness, I went back downstairs and watched as the others talked to this Carile Southerland after all. She was talking on a video cam from a Navy ship in the middle of the Ceres Ocean. The one really weird thing about Carile was that her hair was even brighter red than her mother's. Something really freaky genetic-wise happened with that one. She had a huge smile on her face while she talked to her mother; strange, because her body looked like hell. Her looks gave away whatever she'd been through in Yuktobania.

Carile looked anorexic. Her short, stringy hair was blinding red. She had a plain face, her forehead was really long, and looked kind of pale. Her arms were filled with IVs and other needles.

A living casualty of this atrocious war.

She was supposed to be transferred to a hospital near St. Hewlett. Carile wasn't too specific about her troubles, but her injuries were very serious. Her leg had nearly gone gangrenous. Had Brandon and the others not found her when they did, she probably would have died within a few days. She didn't remember how she ended up where she did.

I couldn't fathom how lonely it would be to have such a debilitating injury and left in a dumpster. It was one of those things where you just had to thank whoever the hell was up in the clouds for guiding them to her.

After that, we sort of milled around. Ms. Southerland was so happy to see her daughter; she cooked us this wonderful dinner. The burn-red headed woman didn't strike me as someone who was good in the kitchen, to be honest. However, I knew Tasha thought her mom was an overrated cook, but that wasn't the point. No idea where she got that Barasa Turkey from on such a short notice. However, I forgot one thing.

While regular turkey made you sleepy, Barasa Turkey was a double dose of tryptophan, or whatever the hell they called that stuff that makes you go nap-time after dinner. I was out within ten minutes of watching television. It was so bad I was literally drooling on the couch by the time I woke up all of the sudden thinking someone was there…seven hours later. Someone had put a cover over me, so I took it and trundled upstairs.

I knew there were a lot of things about the Lovecraft family I didn't know. That worked both ways, however. I didn't tell Brandon's parents about whatever the hell this genetic defect I had that protected me from the disease overseas. Mainly, I didn't understand what the hell was going on. Before I left Yuktobania, there was this weird doctor chick who told me everything would be fine with me and the baby. I took her word for it at the time.

_I don't know what it is about my mom and premature births…it's like it's genetic._

I remembered Brandon saying that days prior…but that felt like an eternity ago. Would that be me? Would that be the fate of my kid?

It was weird, however. Few in the media knew there was some sickness going around. It was…disturbing.

And I sure as hell didn't tell them that the enemy was hunting my boyfriend. I only heard that through rumors back in Bethlehem Park; well, it wasn't just him. Tasha and a few others were mentioned. But why? Why, of all the soldiers on a battlefield, would an enemy single out a few? Maybe there was a common sense answer for that, but I didn't know enough about war to understand that.

I had little sense of time. In Sand Island, there was always sun in the morning. In Alaska…not so much. In fact, the only sense of it I had was when I panicked upon a pair of tiny hands upon my side. I screamed and hopped up from the bed…and I fell over the other side, but not before I saw a pair or a trio of girls who were equally confused by my reaction.

"Aaahh!"

"Aaahh!" the girls screamed in unison. I barely made note of it, but there was a third girl there…but oddly, she did not react at all.

Ignoring both the pain of my head and the embarrassment, I popped up and got a better view of the girls. In fact, Mrs. Lovecraft was equally freaked out by it as she asked us what was going on fron downstairs…and I politely assured her the situation was just the excitement of immature girls…including myself.

The shadowy haired kid was obviously Astrid Lovecraft, Brandon's baby sister. Well, actually she wasn't a _baby_ sister anymore; after all, she was on the precipice of being a teenager. She wasn't at dinner last night since she was across the street with her friend. Of course, Astrid's personality, much like Tasha's at times, often grated on people…so I guessed the further away she was from the other drama in the house, the better.

"Oh, it's you…Astrid, right?" I said, still catching my breath, "Whoa! You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry…"

"What are you girls doing here?" I asked.

"We came to wake you up, but you went all demon-possessed chick on us." Astrid said.

"Whoops. Um…well, I'm up. Thanks."

I looked to the right of the girls, both probably the same age, and there was one who was obviously younger. She had short of longish black hair and a bright set of eyes. However, her face was dead…her body language didn't look natural at all; it was like she was a kid with a zombie's disposition.

"Who's this?" I asked, pointing at the girl.

"Oh, that's Lucy." said Astrid, touching the girl. Lucy shied away a bit, then looked straight at me.

I then vaguely remembered that Lucy was the daughter of Sueltana. Mr. Lovecraft told me neither he nor his wife had told his other kids that Sueltana was dead. He even curtly told me not to say anything about it to them.

In fact, the only people that knew were Brandon and his parents. Not even Tasha knew. I wondered why and Brandon's old man simply said he and the family would wait until after the war was over to have a proper funeral. It was hard to put into words just how much of an impact she had on the Lovecraft family…but why wait that long? There was no telling when the war would end.

And here I sat on a bed, face to face with her daughter. I froze up for a moment. Once again, I decided to

"Oh…_oh_." I said. "It's nice to meet you, Lucy."

"Umm…okay. You must be really shy." I said patting the head of the black-haired girl. She recoiled a bit and her face was one of sickness and fear. Her warm palm touched my hand for only a second; then, she began to walk away backwards. Her saddened face and her blue eyes were to the verge of waterworks. She didn't take her gaze off me…and then she flew out of the room.

"She can't talk anymore. Mom won't tell me why though. But I mean…she could talk before it's…"

"Wow…"

I shook my head and turned my attention to the tan-skinned girl in front of me. Her brown hair was long and curly. She had a puffy, bright face that made her look younger than she was probably was. She seemed a cheerful sort; her pearly white teeth were enough to make me smile.

"Who is this?"

"Oh, this is Mina. She lives down the street."

I'd never seen Mina, but I knew enough to know that whenever Brandon, Tasha, or Micho said the words, down the street, it meant the other's house.

"You're Mr. Alou's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yeah, my dad spends a lot of time over here. My little sister's throwing up all over the place so I'm not going back home yet." Mina said, "I wish Micho would hurry up and get home. This stupid war is pissing me off."

"Join the club." I said. Astrid turned to her friend.

"My big brother's her boyfriend." She said. She then turned back to me with a conceited face. "I'm glad you came. I gotta be honest. When I first met you, I thought you were a total ditz. Then I thought you were a whore and you'd cheat on my brother."

_You little bitch,_ I thought.

I really shouldn't have been surprised. I was _exactly_ like Astrid at eleven. Mina wasn't much better. She reminded me of my friends at eleven; the ones who just agreed with everything I said no matter how dumb it was.

However, she continued, "But my brother likes you. My dad likes you. Mom likes you…so that means I like you."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was an amazing thing. Her logic was flawed and scathing (and it was obvious who she got it from), but it was beautiful and sincere in its…shrewd simplicity.

"Thanks." I said.

"Come on. Mom's making breakfast and I'd _really_ like to get out the house before all Dad's friends show up again."

I jumped up and followed the girls.

Exiting the room, there was this unique smell of sweet air no doubt emerging from the kitchen. I walked downstairs, my bare feet touching the plush carpet. Course, I had to dodge a few computer cords and such. I walked around the edge of the living room to the kitchen, where Mrs. Lovecraft greeted me with a warm smile as she poured batter into a pan. There was a radio playing some music from the 1950s or some long-be-gone era. She was also barefooted, but her feet made no sound as she slid, shook, sang and danced along with the song. It was a rather upbeat number with jazz horns and some crooner or whatever they called the

I couldn't hold back my laughter. She invited me to dance with her, but such a thing wasn't my forte. But, after her subtle nudging, we both found ourselves shaking to some archaic jazz number. I could tell Brandon's mother had been doing this for _years_: talking on the phone, dancing, talking to me, all while handling knives, food and other objects like she was a wizard. I imagined such skill at multitasking came from having to handle all those buttons and switches in her plane.

After Mina left, Astrid, Brandon's father emerged with Lucy in tow. We sat down and we ate pancakes smothered with powdered sugar and _real_ strawberries crushed into a fine puree. I imagined if my mom had made this, she'd have called it the "Diabetes Special".

Astrid would occasionally mouth something in Yuke to Lucy and she'd nod her accordingly. It was awkward to watch because I had no idea why Lucy was mute. She wasn't deaf, obviously. Why would she be as silent as a mime? Did the war take such an unbearable toll on her? I knew her mother was dead and her father had gone missing…but what caused this? I knew plenty of kids who'd lost parents…but it didn't render them speechless.

Unless…

_Maybe…did she lose her tongue or something?_

It wasn't unheard of. There were stories about people who'd lost their tongues in bizarre accidents. War was filled with bizarre things. But that couldn't be the case; there were no visible scars on her body. _So what happened_, I wondered.

It was a Saturday so all the girls left the house to do whatever the hell girls did in Alaska on the weekend. I would have joined them, but I found myself glued to the television. The harbinger of bad news, that device was something I didn't obsess over. In Yuktobania, there were long stretches where I didn't watch TV at all. Then again, my mom would have committed suicide if she couldn't watch her soaps and silly game shows for a day.

Mr. Lovecraft was standing next to a table near the living room. He walked towards the couch and stood almost where I stood before. His right hand was on his chin and his eyes were locked onto the anchorwoman as she spoke about the situation overseas. Little of it made sense to me. She mentioned places I'd never heard of, army divisions I had no idea existed, and behind her were scenes of destruction and chaos. I was unsure how anyone could cope with such a thing, and yet I knew there were many people, my Brandon and Micho in addition, who were seeing such a thing on a daily basis. Or _hourly_ basis, as Mr. Lovecraft put it yesterday.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Mr. Lovecraft didn't take his fingers from his chin. "It's getting real ugly overseas. The front line's complete chaos."

"Are you sure?" I asked. It seemed a dumb question. If anyone knew anything about war, it was Brandon's old man.

"I can tell because normally in the news you don't get play by play of a situation in a battle zone…unless the crap's hit the fan."

And once again…I had to ask something private. "What…I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep prying but…what happened to Lucy?"

For the first time, Mr. Lovecraft came off as rude and angry. "I have no idea what the hell happened overseas with her. All I know is that she's here with us now and she can't talk anymore. It was kinda weird though."

He paused for quite some time before he spoke again, "I got a phone call from someone in Oured, she was the daughter of a CIA spook I met in Versua. She told me where I could find Lucy…so I hopped on a plane and got to Sand Island, picked her up…and well, the rest is unimportant. She's alive…that's all that matters."

He wasn't being truthful with me. His face, his eyes, his gestures…he gave it away. But outside her mother's death, perhaps something truly horrible _did_ happen to her…and that was no longer my place to pry. So, I changed the subject.

"Is _that_ what war's like? Just staying alive?" I said.

I looked over at the television and the news was on. It was the national news, BAN Channel Nine.

"I'm not concerned about what it means anymore."

"Well, at least we can agree who's at fault."

"Not really."

"What do you mean?! _We_ didn't start this war!"

"We all did."

I could barely speak after that. I could barely make out the word, _what_.

"Every one of us who stood by while corruption infiltrated our governments, every one of us who created the very weapons they fight with…and every one of us who laced up their boots for war. We're all to blame."

At that point, I became furious. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You're wrong." I said, my voice broken. "You're wrong! Tell that to everyone who lost people over there and see if _they_ think we're to blame!"

"We all started this war. Humans start wars and humans end them. Not that it's right…that's the way it is."

Mr. Lovecraft stared right at me. He then walked past me and faced the window, then turned back towards me on a dime. "When I was a fighter pilot I was peerless, but for this…I am ashamed."

"What?"

He laughed a bit, shook his head and said. "War's changed. It is advanced technology in the hands of the disenfranchised and the lazy…every expert after the fact, every desperate man in the world…the technologically skilled teen and the expendable warrior for hire."

_Where did he get that assumption?_ There were plenty of different types of warriors…why did he think war was in the hands of such a select few?

He continued, "I want my children to come home alive. To have that wish is hypocrisy because in order for that to _occur_…I have to wish death upon the enemies of the state."

"_Your_ generation is sent to die because of the sins of mine. And your children may be forced to the same. And so it goes."

"No…I'll never let them be part of something that horrible."

The proud ex-pilot turned his back to me and faced the window, the low sunlight peeking through the shades.

"My wife believed that once," Mr. Lovecraft said, "…on the day our first child was born. Catherine, that was her name, was killed by an enemy fascist state in Versua…testing a new weapon of mass destruction on the cruise ship we were on. Then, a few weeks later…we were fighting in the war."

I knew some of the story, of course. However, Brandon didn't tell me _that_ part.

"I'm sorry." It was all I could think of to say. Mr. Lovecraft turned back to me.

"That, my dear…is why we're all to blame." He said.

His voice was depressed. It was a completely different mood from the previous day.

"War is a distortion. You see life differently. You view death differently. After all we did…what did it really do? I'm sorry, Dulcinea. I've spent all night thinking about it…twenty nine years…and you know what I realized? I thought I had answers…but I don't know anymore."

Mr. Lovecraft turned and walked away slow; each step heavy along the smooth white floor.

There was always something theatrical about Mr. Lovecraft's words, or at least it _felt_ that way. What must it have been like to have that kind of peerless ability? Maybe that's why he and his wife were so melodramatic all the time. I knew they were good pilots back in the day. Given that, they must have performed some truly superhuman, or maybe near-suicidal, feats in the air. I knew I'd probably never learn what they _truly_ did.

That also meant they had a right to the opinions they held, and it wasn't any easier to understand. It seemed that both Brandon's parents could never fully break away from their pasts.

_War is a distortion._

To them, it was like a black, shadowy hand that would never let go of them. They could come home, raise a family, be a wonderful person…and the shadows of war would always follow them for the rest of their lives. Would this be Brandon's fate? Would Tasha feel the same thing?

I walked over to the couch and felt deflated. I came to Alaska to get away from Sand Island. In the home of Brandon's parents, I felt safe…loved even.

Sitting on the couch in the living room as bad news poured in from every ticker and anchorperson that popped up on the screen, I felt so alone. I didn't know what to do.

None of us knew anything about war anymore. No one knew what to do. Mine fault was ignorance. Brandon's parents? Their fault was nearly thirty years of warped memories.

I felt helpless. We, everyone at home…

We were all helpless.

***

**Brandon**

**September 13, 2037**

**0720 hrs**

It took at least thirty minutes to clear out the last bad guys. There was a small contingent of 82nd Airborne in the area who helped us clear out the rest of the town and its outskirts. They were en route, in those brand new Strykers by the way, to the south and their MSR just happen to cross paths with ours. By the time the fight was over, the entire town was flattened. The fall back position was cratered and every building was a pile of rubble, some even more so than _before_ the fight started.

The entire town was covered in bodies of Soma special troops and the like. And once again, we didn't have a Marine killed. In a cold and pragmatic way…it didn't really matter. We had ten wounded…almost all of them very seriously. Most of the casualties were from Riba's team and they were the victims of the almost ceaseless artillery and gunfire.

"Who the hell were those guys?" someone asked.

"They were Soma alright, but none I've ever seen before. These guys were a cut above." Dickerson said.

"These aren't the Dogmen…these guys were like their Spec-Ops or something." Sheck said.

I walked over to my best friend and there was only a painful realization that his war had come to an end, maybe even parts of his life. He'd finally been stabilized but he still looked jittery, pained and angry. He was incomplete, a part of his body was gone and we'd probably never find the missing piece.

"Micho…you alright?" I asked.

"What do you think?!" He replied.

Gray and the others lifted him onto one of the stretchers. "Just calm down, alright. You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you out of here."

And for the first time in many years, the hardened Versuan kid, the boy whose father was tough as nails and was as ruthless as his enemy, the same man who, like me, had been told to live by a certain male code forever…actually cried in front of me. It was the one strange thing that kept me from getting pissed off at the enemy. I was sadder for him. What was he going to tell his kid? How would tell this story? What would he tell Rachel? What would _I_ tell her? It was depressing.

"How am I gonna hold my son with one arm?" he said, broken and confused. I actually believed he tried to hold up his left shoulder when he said that.

"At least you'll see him for the first time." I said. It was all I could say.

Then, Micho started laughing. It was such a stark contrast from his attitude before and I was thankful for it. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Yeah…that is true." He said as they prepared to lift him into the 011 LARA. I knew what was thinking…and I knew that he would've thought the same if our positions were reversed. As such, I added a parting shot.

"If you do talk to Rachel before the war's over, tell her I said if she wants to kick my ass in a dream she better wake up and apologize." I said.

Micho laughed again. His mirth was my joy as well. "Whatever, dude."

Gray said. "Come on, we got to go."

Just as Gray said that, Captain Morrison came running up to him.

"Gray, there's been a change of plans. We're gonna have to evac the wounded to Gersu. Some of the forward shock trauma units have come under heavy fire from enemy troops. They're getting pounded!"

"That far in the rear sir?!" Gray responded.

"The whole front line's in chaos. Everyone from us to 82nd, 1st Marines, 3rd ID…they're getting hit hard by enemy counterattacks." Morrison said. He paused for a long moment as we all turned our heads toward the east. We could see what appeared to thousands upon thousands of tracers stretching into the air and all across the distance.

"What we saw may just be the beginning." Captain Morrison concluded.

Dickerson walked over to the Captain, "Sir, we have a transmission from Battalion."

"Put it through."

Rarely would such a transmission be open broadcast, but for whatever reason, the Captain talked with Battalion command in front of all of us.

"Werewolf Alpha, this is Bear One. Request a sitrep on your current situation."

The Captain replied, "Sir, we are defending this road at Point 120-X256N. We've taken multiple casualties from enemy artillery and small arms fire, over."

"Werewolf Alpha, we need you to peel off whatever you can and send them to rally point Romeo Whiskey, Point 121-X235N. Take the rest of your company south to link up with Battalion and set up defensive positions."

"Solid copy. Interrogative, what's the situation at Romeo Whiskey?"

"This one comes from the top. A group of Marines and paratroopers are pinned down in the city and need immediate exfiltration. They have captured several HVTs with critical intel about something called a Project Golgotha. We need that intel, ASAP. I'm sending everyone we can but our HQ getting pounded out here and we need every man we can spare."

"Roger, I'll peel off a platoon to assist."

"Solid Copy, Bear One out."

The Captain didn't waste any time. He turned to our team leader, "Lieutenant, take some of your shooters and get to Romeo Whiskey on the double. Everyone else, we're Oscar Mike to Battalion's position. Let's go!"

Our entire team milled around the area. I saw Peter picking up enemy guns and examining them. Jenks and Janson, who'd recently returned from the injured list in the rear, were near him.

The Lieutenant's voice was quick and demanding. It was hard to believe this guy was pretty much right out of the Naval Academy. "You, you and you…we're moving out. Eric, I want you on the Harpoon. Allen, you're driving, Wash you take Micho's sector."

Both of the Sergeants ran up as everyone in the company began running around to their vehicles. "Alphonso, take the other LARA with Cameron and Miller. I want a twenty meter spread between you and us." The LT said. He then turned to Hoot, "Teller, you take the rest of the team and link up with Battalion. Check weapons and ammo. Grab some of the enemy's ordinance as well, we might need it."

The officer asked Jenks and I to gather some of the enemy's weapons. We were short on grenades and since Tristan wasn't on our team and Willis was pretty out of the war, we needed some anti-tank weapons. Unfortunately, the only ones we could find were regular RPGs and an older model Javelin with a few rounds. Normally, picking up enemy ordinance was a dicey proposition and we'd already had two Marines wounded because of problems with the Soma's weapons. Perhaps the enemy was pretty elite after all. The Soma weren't too good about weapon maintenance and all things considered, the weapons _we_ found were in pretty good shape. We ran back to the team.

"Sir, where the hell is Romeo Whiskey anyway?" asked Allen, looking at a map.

The LT pointed to somewhere on it and said, "It's a few klicks to the northeast, just over the hills."

"They're sending us out there alone!?"

"They're peeling off guys from all over. If not, we still got a mission."

"Sir, do have a sitrep on enemy forces there?" Alphonso asked.

MacGruber took a deep breath and said grimly, "We've got no idea on how many, though my first guess would be…a lot."

Alphonso only nodded. He turned and took Miller with him as Cameron climbed into the driver's seat of his vehicle. Jenks climbed back where Wash usually sat, and Wash sat where Micho did.

The door to the LARA closed and the ghost fog of the morning was swallowed whole by the black clouds of smoke and ash from the flattened town. I thought about Walt's words back at Arizona Island. We headed off on a special mission to bail out allies to the south. I had no idea what the situation was there. All I knew was that we'd been blitzed by a large sized force from above and below. We were lucky. But as we all put readied our weapons, we knew many others hadn't been as fortunate.

In the northern distance, I saw countless flashes on the horizon. Several A-10s, perhaps the same A-10s who saved us earlier, buzzed the town. Above them were the momentary contrails of several screamers, perhaps F-15s.

Adrian was strangely quiet. Eric had a look of complete fury, as if he was wanted to fix his bayonet and go stab-happy on the Soma yet again. Allen hadn't nearly crashed our vehicle yet, so he was an automatic upgrade from Cameron for the moment. Chapman changed the weapon modes on his rifle, as if it was a cadence: burst, auto, safe, burst, auto, safe. Jenks put some chewing gum in his mouth and smacked it rather loudly. Wash had the same steely cold look he always had…but it was hollow really.

Micho wasn't there. His war was over. He could go home and see his beautiful son, but his life would be forever altered because of this war. I knew I'd be affected somehow, but all I carried were scars at the moment. Scars came and went. Micho had the lifelong loss of an extremity. Then again, maybe he was lucky.

I felt empty. I wasn't worried about dying myself…but I was empty inside. Then again, there was that pit of uncertainty.

What awaited us at Romeo Whiskey? Whatever was up there, there was only one guarantee. We had no idea what to expect at our destination except a determined enemy, no doubt galvanized by the assassination of their leader. We were heading into the vengeful flames of a relentless, cold-blooded enemy.

***

_**Tasha**_

**Joint Forward Shock Trauma Unit, Arasi Sands – Severja Outskirts**

**September 13, 2037**

**1000 hrs**

I spent a lot of time thinking about Xanthia.

I was alone in the hospital bed and my only company was the conversations of everyone around me. Ivanava wasn't even around much in the past few days. I missed her touch, her scathing views on the world, and mostly just her mere presence if only for a few lonely days. I heard rumors that Sorenson had a sister running around this place. It wouldn't have surprised me.

Then, of all people…Rico came wandering into my personal space yet again. That time, he didn't try to slit my throat or himself for that matter. He left as quickly as he ran in.

Some people spent a lot of thinking about the meaning of life. But to me, life was just a long period of loneliness broken up into huge and tiny chunks of family, friends, and lovers; mixed in are all these organic pictures of happiness and absolute misery. On top of that were both necessary and senseless routines; a countless amount of rules, written and unwritten. Through all that, you had to make your way through this confusing web of fluff that made life more complicated. But really, the main point of it was to do it as long as possible until you wound up in a grave…and many of us never got the opportunity.

The days of peace were coming to a close. In a few days I'd probably be sent back to my unit. The war, however, probably wouldn't be over by then. Not with the extremely high cas-evacs. Not in my area, but on the other side of the valley there were people scrambling towards Section Three, the main camp closest to the front. I'd heard all kinds of voice mentioning some huge battle in the middle of the northern desert.

I was glad that Musharak was waxed, but the Soma really didn't care. They wanted us dead and they stood in our way. They weren't going to stop.

Before, I was glad for the break from the conditions, after a few days…I really wanted to be back out there after just a few days of being on injured reserve…of sorts. Xanthia would have done the same; at least, that's what I told myself. I wanted to do something, anything other than lay around.

"_We finally located it. We found the facility where Seelow Rot was really invented. But the Soma's elite troops are in control of it, last I checked."_

"_Then we have no choice. Gather everyone and get the word out. Operation Golgotha is now in effect."_

"_Yes sir, I'll get right on it. I've already arranged our transport out of here. But what about the…"_

"_It's already taken care of."_

I had no idea what the hell they were talking about? Project Golgotha? Just as I thought that, a harried Kaida and Raji, along with several black suited armed guards (no doubt from Praetorian), rushed into the room and closed the door behind them. There was plenty of screaming outside and I could've sworn there was the sound of a gunshot or two. I sat up on my bed as quickly as I could and Kaida gave me a look that was more of a sneer than anything.

"What the hell's going on!?" I asked.

Kaida was covered in sweat and his hands shook, but whatever confidence he lacked…he didn't express it in his words.

"We're about to end this war. And you get to be a part of it."

_What…the hell was he going on about? End of the war? Me…a part of it? Why me?_

There were more screams outside. _Condition One! Condition One!_

For a moment, I thought that we were under attack. Certainly the gray suited man that ran into the room shared that sentiment. I got up from the bed and tried to locate any other clothes. The only thing I had on were the medical swab shirt and pants that well…weren't really clothes as much as they were pieces of blue-green cloth. I really didn't care about the lack of privacy at the moment. But as I did, I was grabbed by my arms by two of the guards and slammed me into the floor. My head ached, my back was killing me…

And I had a gun to my head…and swiftly, my entire world came a screeching halt. I turned my eyes to the suit wearing black man that entered the room. Now I was as sweaty as Kaida…but he began to towel himself off.

The gray suited man turned to Kaida. "Sir, Sorenson and her NSA friends…they made us! They just entered the base and have alerted the MPs."

_What was going on? Was that why he was so desperate? What did Kaida do? What did Raji do? Was Zarolslav with them?_

Kaida was angry. "I know that, Jackson! But how did they find out?!"

"I don't know. We need to get out of here, _right…now_!" said this…Jackson.

Finally, I got some courage. Air raid sirens were heard.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted.

Kaida ran over to me. "Can you walk?!"

"What?"

He stepped on my hand and an pain of an anvil crushed my hand…and for a second I thought he'd broken all my fingers.

"Can you walk!?" he asked forcefully.

I was almost breathless. I honestly thought Ammon Kaida was going to kill me.

"I think…why? What are you doing!? What is this?!"

He took his foot of my hand and signaled his guards to back off. He picked me up off the ground. My hand throbbed. It didn't help that he whipped my arms around my back. All I felt next was the clicking of cold steel and my hands were immobile; all under the watchful eye of one of the black suited soldiers, his rifle, whatever the hell kind it was, pointing right at my head. And then I wished Brandon was there, and he would have known what kind it was…and the scene probably wouldn't be happening.

"Our plans have been discovered. You'll serve nicely as a hostage."

"Hostage?! What…"

But why was it happening? What did he mean by _plans_? It was clear that whatever Kaida and Raji had done or planned to do was something that could have gotten them killed. I didn't watch that silly _Raven Bauer_ show much but this clandestine bullshit that Kaida and Raji were involved with…it fit the show perfectly.

And that word…_hostage_. It was enough to make my heart go into warp speed.

Kaida said, "It's strictly business. Don't take this personally."

Business! So that's what it was about! Buisness? What…did these guys get some huge offer for me? What if there was some secret organization that had something to do with this war? Or worse…_what if they were working for the Soma?_ I'd heard rumors that mercenaries were involved with the Hazri's leadership. It was impossible to think about. And yet, it couldn't even be said for my worst nightmares because there was not a single horrifying scenario I could have made up that could have covered me being handcuffed and treated like a prisoner of war.

And where were the Marines and the Army personnel that were at the base? Did Kaida and his guys delay them somehow? How were they going to get away with this?!

But Sorenson had made them panic. It seemed that even though help was on the way, however, there would be a lot of bloodshed on the way there.

"Let's go!" Jackson said, "I hope you've figured out how we're gonna make the getaway clean."

"Oh…I wouldn't worry about that, my friend." Raji said. "I've got it covered."

His pathetic Osean twang…if I wasn't being dragged around as a human shield…I would have laughed. It was rather slick from that fat-assed traitor. For the only the third time in my life, I thought about murder. There was a large fusillade of gunfire heard as the guards grabbed me and Kaida started screaming out orders on some radio or a phone…something of that nature. My sweat was cold, my blood was equally solid and chilled.

It seemed Kaida and his bunch already beat me to the punch. The hospital zone was a rather general place. There was a lot of activity around this place. The entire areas was filled with bodies: the bodies of nurses, patients…Marine personnel…Yukes…a Praetorian Guard here and there…two little boys…

Children…

They killed _everyone_…

Silenced weapons all…

Even Rico…

I was dragged by the guards and I just happened pass by his body…he'd been shot at least seven times. But it seemed he took a few with him…

I got my wish after all it seemed. Maybe I shouldn't have thought about killing him myself. _Bad karma_…no, karma had nothing to do with this. I was sad, angry, and confused. My mouth and my face made all kinds of strange contortions as I was led around like a slave. I didn't know how to react…but I couldn't after all. If I made a move, I was dead.

We came around to the garage area…and suddenly, there was a door that opened and we found ourselves preparing to head underground. The access point was a large 60 yard opening in the ground…that wasn't there before. No one would have known it was there if it wasn't for one of the guards. He hit the switch somewhere and the large opening revealed itself to be a poorly lit, large concrete hill that led down into some kind of large tunnel. There were stairs on both sides of it but it was slanted at just the right angle to allow vehicles to drive down into it. It went down for what felt like a slow decent for probably almost hundreds of meters.

Now, I knew little about modern Yuktobanian history but I knew enough that the Yukes were masters at building underground bases and facilities.

(_Brandon told me…but that's not the point._)

I shouldn't have been surprised, but fear made you do bizarre things like forget knowledge that was easily reachable. Kaida was a little confounded but Raji led the way. Raji was obviously the ringleader of this murderous plot. I couldn't even raise my emotions to anger. Another one of the guards pulled a truck around. Just as he did, the garage…or hangar door (whatever it was), opened.

I saw the emergence of dozens of friendly troops…and Helena Sorenson. For the first time in this ordeal…I was relieved. The others made moves behind cover. Kaida then took me and quickly threw me to the ground behind some kind of metallic shipping crate. There was a space underneath it about a few inches high and it was enough to see the light and a few feet. I was scared. I didn't move a muscle the entire time.

"Freeze! Weapons down! Put your hands in the air!" she shouted.

However, Kaida and his men prepared weapons and positioned themselves in certain areas behind the boxes. They weren't going to surrender. It was going to be a bloodbath.

I shut my eyes and my entire body tensed. I crawled further away, blind and hoped to whatever deity existed in the area that I didn't get killed.

"_Raji! Kaida! You're under arrest!"_

"_I said weapons down! Hands where I can see them! Now!"_

"_What took you so long?"_

"_On what charge? You got nothing, bitch. You're already too late."_

"_I think I'm right on time."_

"_Well, time might run out for your little prodigy here if you take one more step."_

"_Let her go, this is between me and you. You kill her you won't make it out of this room…"_

"_Do you actually think you're gonna get away with this?"_

"_I already have. Kaida's been working for us all along. I represent certain…interests in the Yuktobanian government."_

"_You have five seconds to drop your weapons."_

"_I'll save you the trouble…open fire!"_

The second triggers were pulled…I opened my eyes.

What happened next was nothing more than the screams of death, panic and fear; also, there was the furious, overlapping thunder of automatic weapons. The shell casings were all around me. They rolled through the openings beneath the shipping containers; they fell from the catwalks above where Kaida's men held the advantageous high ground. Raji's fat ass and ugly mug ducked behind cover like the coward he was. He laughed the entire time. If my hands weren't cuffed, I would have tried to strangle him right then and there.

There was a man who was killed and he fell on the other side of the metal crate. I could barely see his face, but I could tell his last moments weren't pretty. He'd been shot multiple times and one of his radios slid under the opening towards my way. I could hear the panic…and it was clear that the chaos wasn't exclusive to the garage.

"_Apostle Two-Two, this is November Three! We're under attack! The main gate is under attack by Praetorian troops!"_

"_Apostle Actual to Two Three! We're taking fire from Loyalist units! Tell them to cease fire!"_

"_Apostle Three-Four, we've got multiple hostiles! The Loyalists…why are they engaging each other?! What the hell's going on!? The mercs are shooting at us!"_

"Right on time." Raji said with a sinister smile.

The fire tapered off as I closed my eyes and tried to make it all go away…but I was still there and the blood of friendlies seeped underneath the crates. It seemed that was his mad plan. The entire base had turned on itself.

I was shaking. What did this mean for the war? What if Brandon was also being ambushed by these guys? What if he ran into a friendly Yuke unit and they just opened up on him.

_No…this can't be happening._

_This can't be happening._

_This can't be happening._

It happened. I was picked up by two of the other guards…and I saw the carnage they left in their wake.

There were dozens of bodies, friend and foe scattered around the place. One of them, however, was not dead. That was Helena Sorenson. She was prone, propped up against one of the crates…with Kaida standing over her. He clapped his hands and one of the guards tossed him his gun.

Bang.

One shot ended her; a shot through the heart. This wasn't some TV show or a movie. There were no words exchanged, no dramatic ending. He didn't waste any time. It was almost as if everyone he conversed or worked with meant nothing to him anymore. She was the enemy now…and now she was dead…or at least I thought she was. I was too far away to see clearly. My brother would have, though.

This was the same person who called my dad a friend at one point…murdering someone my father talked to a few times in cold blood. Whatever villainy he plotted was unclear but whatever dark threshold there was had been crossed and crossed thoroughly. Ammon Kaida and Dr. Raji were officially the enemies…and I was their hostage.

I couldn't look anymore.

"Let's move." Kaida said. I was whipped around when I barely saw him pull out a radio or something, "Specter Eight Seven, this is Specter Actual. You may begin combat operations_."_

"Roger that, Specter Actual. Eight seven out." Raji stood in front of me, proud now…not hiding his sadistic, fat ass behind a dumpster or something. The guards held me by the arms…and Raji walked over to me and cleared the hair away from my eyes. It was then that all the rage and hatred boiled to the top. I wished I could have seen my face.

"My precious girl…you are about to witness the birth of a new age. Unfortunately…you must also be a sacrifice for the greater good." Raji said.

_Greater good?_ Was that was this was all about? How? It was impossible. Murdering allies, innocent people, high ranking executives, and playing one of the greatest practical jokes in history? For what? For this? The greater good? All I knew what that Kaida and his men worked for the same corrupt people who only exacerbated the very first war my parents fought in. Or where they possibly the very Yukes we fought alongside?

What was Raji planning? Why was Kaida involved? Ending the war? How? Then Zarolslav's assessment of Raji was off…

_You wouldn't know it from the outside…but Raji's a Jaair Yuke._

_Like I said…agendas._

Was she even alive? What was Raji's angle? Revenge? Was Raji trying to wipe out his own people? _No, that couldn't be_, I thought.

_You Oseans are never concerned about anyone else but yourselves._

It was all a lie it seemed. We'd been used just for a few to take power…and revenge, at least I guessed. The radio still continued to stir with the panicked voices of the topside guards.

"_Apostle Two-Two, this is November Three! Where are you?!" _

Raji continued coldly, "As your brother, well…he and the rest of his Marine friends will make their own sacrifice. In a few hours…they're going to have the surprise of a lifetime."

The second he brought up my brother…I spit in his face.

Raji made a hostile motion for me and smashed a pistol handle into my face. The guards let me drop.

Pain, the aches and obvious bruises were like hot objects against my skin. The guards moved in but Raji waved them off. They picked me up and I could feel the blood pouring out of my nose. Raji walked up to me and wiped some of the blood on his hand…and smeared it across his primary fingers.

"What a pity. It's a shame it had to come to this…but war is never kind to any of us. Your parents would know that more than anyone." So said the evil doctor.

"Let's go! We don't have a lot of time left." Kaida said.

A deathly fear came over me. The last thing I saw before I was dragged into whatever vehicle they were going to use was the vague motion of a many dead bodies, a moribund Sorenson and a river of blood. The last thing I heard before another rifle butt impacted my head was the panicked screams of whoever Apostle Two-Two was. The world, the future…it all became dark and I could only think of Brandon…and whatever terrible fate we'd both endure.

Next Chapter: Apocalypse


	27. Apocalypse

Chapter 27: Apocalypse

_December 30, 2010 - "…I've seen so much in a few months. I wonder if this is the worst humanity can produce in this age, what would the end of the world look like? Would the entire planet be consumed by death? Our enemy wants to destroy our country; their hatred is a flame of revenge from the Belkan War. If we fail...what will become of the future? Those enemy aces are nothing more than ghosts of a long past war. And yet, so are we, the so-named Ghosts of Razgriz. What would the future hold? Would Blaze and I have to watch in terror? Could our children have the same burden we did?_

**Brandon**

**Rally Point Romeo Whiskey, Upper Crasia **

**September 13, 2037**

**2250 hrs**

We were always delayed. One of the MSRs was choked with enemy presence. Just an annoyance in the grand scheme of things; the soldiers at Romeo Whiskey were holding their own. As we made our drive, I remembered the sky was extremely dark for the time of year and the area of desert we were in; however it was much more than just beige colored dirt.

It wasn't a patch of sand. It was actually something out of a movie where the voyagers would find a desolate planet. It was as if parts the sky had been scorched with black fire and the rest of the air above was merely choking on the toxin left behind.

Every one of those sci-fi movies had a planet that looked like Romeo Whiskey. On the surface there would be endless rock formations and each patch of sedimentary stone had spiked edges, as if erosion and time dreamed of about knives. They always seemed to face a single direction.

For our purposes, that was a good thing…and a bad thing. By the time we'd cleared the roads, Romeo Whiskey was under heavy attack once again. We were running out of time and our patience was running thin as well. All we could do was drive and listen to the screams on the radio.

Allen and the LT had some trouble locating this…Romeo Whiskey. Unlike in most places, there wasn't an official map for vague places known only by military jargon. All along the distant horizon there was nothing but flashes. There was something oddly beautiful about it all.

"Whoa." I could only say. The LT was looking at a map under a flashlight as Allen kept cursing under his breath. The night had come and visibility was at a premium. Some part of me wondered if he actually

"Six…do you see anything out there?" MacGruber said to Miller on the gun in the second victor.

"Negative…I'm picking up all kinds of radio chatter…it's just insane." He responded.

We continued on along the road, but Allen was having a hard time keeping the car in a straight line. The dust had gathered along the road, and it was almost like driving on ice. The LT continued to look at his map.

"We're coming up on the T-Junction…hold this path and then bear right in 2 klicks."

"Wilco, sir." Allen responded dryly.

The radio changed back to the constant chatter. There were the cries for evac, enemy locations…and it wasn't just at this Romeo Whiskey. At least we thought we were getting close. It was all over the Allied net. I had to give the enemy credit; whatever the Hazri were doing offensively, they went big. As we continued down the road, we could see the outlines of several buildings. Flashes were long in the horizon. There were many ruined buildings along the way, but it wasn't a suburb. This was some large manufacturing park.

The LT stopped on one channel particularly interesting.

"Anyone on the net? This is Ravage 87, location Romeo Whiskey Grid 121-146A, Code Canary Yellow…I repeat, Code Canary Yellow, need immediate med-evac."

The voice was female, obviously of foreign decent…probably Belkan I figured. The grid numbers meant we _were_ getting close. But those protocols weren't normal. It was either a specialist, a pilot, or some other high ranking officer. Then when the message repeated, I heard Ravage 87 a little more clearly. Air Force callsign. It was definitely some kind of special squadron protocol. But we had no comms with whoever this woman was.

"What the heck does that mean? Never heard of that protocol." Adrian said.

"Air Force…downed pilots probably." I said.

"Are they the ones we're looking for, sir?" Jenks asked.

"Probably not." MacGruber responded.

"Juliet Two Actual to Werewolf Two Actual, interrogative…are we the only Allies that's Oscar Mike in this sector?" Alphonso asked.

"Not sure…the entire radio net's going berserk." The officer replied.

The road was narrow and dusty. Up ahead, we could make out several green lights. Flares. There was a building up ahead that was mostly intact from the outside.

"I think we've found it sir…take a look." Allen said.

The building was not very big. I wasn't sure what this place was supposed to be.

"Green flares…definitely friendly." I said.

We slowed the vehicles as we gently pulled up to the area. Two Allied soldiers, probably 82nd, were manning a makeshift checkpoint. It wasn't much. There was nothing blocking the road…or maybe they moved it when we approached. A gust of wind and dirt kicked up as we pulled up. In the distance, we could see the fighting, the tracer rounds and explosions. That was where the bulk of the action was taking place…_but what was going on here_, I wondered.

A woman, in what was clearly a flight suit, walked up to us; her hand on a pistol.

"What unit are you?"

I had no idea why she was shouting. The noise wasn't substantial. She spoke the words correctly, but they seemed forced; as if she'd just learned how to speak the language well. Her accent was very thick though. The LT answered her question.

"Marines, Power Recon, 1st Battallion Werewolf comp…what's going on?"

The woman looked relieved. "Good enough. You're the ranking officer here?"

"Yes. Lieutenant MacGruber. You?"

"Captain Abby Riese, 343rd Recon Squadron. Listen, we need to get my people out of here and to the rear ASAP."

"The HVT's are inside there?" the lieutenant asked.

Riese shrugged her extremely broad shoulders. "Well…what's left of them."

It was almost as if the Belkan woman was disinterested in them entirely. Or maybe it wasn't even her mission. What was going on?

"They're dead? We just came out here for nothing?" Adrian shouted.

Riese rolled her eyes. "No…we have intelligence on a facility to the far north of the Serai Salt Flats…an formerly abandoned chemical plant…_formerly_, the key word since it's not so abandoned anymore."

The Salt Flats. I hadn't really heard much about this part…then I remembered, that crazed doctor…

"Specs Ops apprehended several figures connected to the Hazri's chemical weapons program. Then we got blitzed by an entire Hazri mechanized company. There weren't enough of us to defend the place…and when we tried to evac, we got shot on takeoff and crashed here. The HVTs died on impact. We managed to secure the recon photos though. We've been pretty much pinned down for the last few hours, but the enemy seems to be more worried about the troops in the main town. But they'll be back."

"How many are defending this place?" asked the LT.

"This is the 82nd's A company forward OP, actually. We were lucky to crash here. A few hours ago, we had some twenty guys not counting my crew…now there's just thirteen of us left."

I couldn't see where the downed chopper was. But all around were the signs of occupation. Why the Hazri hadn't overrun this place yet was beyond me. But the LT wasn't taking any chances.

"Set up a perimeter facing past the buildings. Janson, Miller, stay on the Harpoons. Sergeant, you and Corporal Black come with me. Everyone else, take up defensive positions and don't fire unless they fire on us."

We followed Riese into the building…or what was left of it. Riese had to be one of the tallest woman I'd ever seen. She had to be at least 6'3. I don't know how the hell they got her into an aircraft, but it didn't matter in the end really. The LT was communicating with command who'd linked up with battalion.

"Werewolf Actual, we're moving in to secure the HVTs and intel." He said.

"Roger Two, we got a firestorm here! We got Yukes engaging the PMCs, Marines under attack from Dogmen, it's a mess. We need you back here ASAP." Morrison responded.

"Roger, solid copy."

"So we're just going to leave them…?" Alphonso said. It wasn't a protest of any fury, oddly enough. It was one made from pure confusion. Oddly, before the LT could even answer…

"Got too many fires around here…can't put them all out." Riese interjected, "We need to move fast, the Hazri will come like hornets if they figure out we're here."

"Understood." LT responded. Even he seemed bewildered by the news. You just don't leave people behind, Marine or no Marine. It wasn't how things were done…but honestly, what choice did we have? I wanted to go out there and see what we could do, but the fires and blasts around the city were getting louder and louder. Time was not on our side.

Riese led us to their makeshift stronghold…a loose definition. It was wrecked beyond any recognition. Normally, when you entered a office building, you expected to see a lobby or a foyer, a desk, some hot secretary sitting at the front, camera and a stairway or elevator. The place we entered? It was like someone had taken a gigantic bowling ball and dropped it through the roof. The night sky was clear through the hole of the four story building. We climbed up the stairs, and climbed was the right term. The stairwell was exposed by the shattering of the building. It was like walking on the side of a mountain.

Along the way, we saw a few of the remaining soldiers talking among themselves. I wasn't really interested in what they were saying since they mostly ignored us. One or two commented on our suits, but again, I ignored them. I wasn't interested in praise.

Riese wasn't actually in command, technically, but she was the only officer here. She said recon photos, which meant she was the pilot that took them. But what was she doing here? Was she shot down here? Had to be, but she didn't mention that part. Yet.

"I got lucky. They had a ton of AA and SAMs in the area. We thought Wild Weasels cleared the area, but on our second run…they just came out of nowhere. Most were mounted on trucks which told me that the base was just recently occupied."

"How did you know it was abandoned before?" Alphonso asked.

"We had done a recon of the Salt Flats days ago. Maybe abandoned wasn't the right word. There were Hazri there, but no major presence. Then one day, the base is just empty. No heat signatures…nothing. Then just this morning about 0400, there was activity up the wazoo."

Alphonso arched an eyebrow and turned to the LT.

"That was just a few hours before we were attacked at Seria. This isn't a coincidence, sir." He said.

MacGruber didn't hesitate in his response, "Captain Morrison was right. The enemy's planning something big…we need to get out of here."

Riese continued. "This is just the beginning…there was all kinds of mechanized troops at the base. Signs of airdrops, fuel trucks…and this _was_ a chemical plant after all. They're probably going to do something with that virus or whatever. Well, that's biochemical, but you get the point…"

We rushed back down to the bottom as the LARAs began to alter their position. They were backing up towards the building and we were preparing to get the wounded out. There were only a few wounded, the bodies would have to wait…there just wasn't enough room.

There was something inside my mind, a shadowy feel of uncertainty. Something was going to happen, but what it was, I had no idea. But I could've taken a guess.

It was then I thought about that comment Riese had made. Something about hornets. The Hazri were like that. Funny how you can say the most ridiculous idea when you're fighting a war…then it just happens right on cue…

It was that one crazy law about war that never failed. When you say something, it usually happens. And it happened.

A hail of gunfire ripped from beyond our line. The buildings we saw near us opened up like dragons' mouths as AK and machine gun fire ripped into our position.

"Contact front! We're under attack!" someone shouted.

A blast ripped the south east quarter of our line. Mortars were bracketing us.

"Fall back to the building! Defend this position!" the Lieutenant ordered. We started to run there, and Cameron backed the LARA deeper into the facility. I don't know why he didn't just get out and run. There was no point in staying in the vehicle when artillery was bearing down on you in a situation where you had to evac people from a fixed position. If we were moving though, that would be another story…

"Get inside, now!" Riese shouted at us. We poured through the front entrance, but I was the last one in.

There was massive explosion behind us. We weren't that close to it, but it had to be an artillery round or something of that nature. Alphonso and I were thrown down into the massive crater in the middle of the building. Dust kicked up and everything shook for a few seconds. Everyone else was at the windows, trading fire with the enemy we couldn't see.

I picked myself off the ground and I noticed my visor was cracked a little. Dust was everywhere. Then I realized my gun was missing.

I then turned my head and saw Riese on the ground near the wall, as if someone had just pushed her down. She struggled to get up, and when she did, she fell right back down in a coughing fit. She finally forced herself up. She grabbed her right ear, turned her hand to look at it, and I could clearly see the blood on it. She wiped it off and one of the other soldiers rushed over to help her up. I couldn't see the LT immediately, but as I staggered around to find my weapon, I saw him. He was shouting into the mic about the situation.

"Two Actual, there's been a change of plans. An Allied convoy is enroute to reinforce your position. ETA twenty mikes." said the Captain.

"Roger." He replied.

I scrambled around in the dirt and detritus trying to locate my gun. Then…

"Here." I heard Alphonso say over the chaos. I turned to him and he tossed me my weapon.

"Never a dull moment, isn't it?" he said. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but I could have sworn it was a smile.

A few weeks ago, I had never expected him to say that. Now, it was almost laughable. Twenty minutes…there was no telling what would happen. After all, everything had pretty much gone wrong. There was chaos in the rear, we were cut off from our company and the rest of the Allies. It was night, we had limited ammo, and we basically came to Romeo Whiskey to secure dead people and photos.

What else could go wrong?

**Tasha**

**Serai Chemical Plant "Golgotha", The Serai Salt Flats **

**September 13, 2037**

**2255 hrs**

I awoke with a start. Nightmares.

Corpses. Blood.

My blood. Those were the last things I saw. I could feel my own blood against me as I was blind in the darkness, led to whatever this place was. The gray walls. The narrow window. The toilet. A glass of water on a metal table. But there were no computers, no medical devices, no mirrors, and no nurses. This was a prison. My prison…but I was not alone.

"Well…Sleeping Beauty's finally up." I heard a male voice say.

_God…if I heard that one more time…_

Then the pain hit me. I felt my nose, broken by Raji's sidearm. Someone had patched it up. I couldn't believe why my voice seemed to go up an octave. It was damn near unbearable. Then I looked down at my clothes. I was in a new set of hospital clothes…but they were yellow and a lot thinner. Part of it looked like it used to be a biohazard suit. I was wondering why I was so cold.

"Where…where am I?" I said. I couldn't see where the voice came from, but it was from my left. The bed was facing the cell door, gray and windowless.

"We're pretty close to hell kid...though for me, this is just merely a waiting room." The man said.

The man obviously wasn't a young guy. His voice sounded measured and rough, almost from an individual who smoked too much. Then, I finally turned and saw the man.

He wasn't dressed like a patient. He was in regular clothes, a black jacket, black pants. I decided he'd look cool, if he wasn't in his sixties. He was very broad. His face looked somewhat chiseled, like granite or something. But there was something to him, the steely eyes, the edge, and a disposition of stoicism…

It was something that reminded me of my father.

"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?" I could only ask.

Then, the man laughed. There was this smirk on his face. Then I knew…this couldn't be a coincidence. My dad was kinda the same way…

He talked to me like he knew me…but I sure as hell didn't know who he was, at least…not yet.

"I can imagine what your mother's face would be like if she knew either of us were in the situation we were in now." He said.

He did know me…_and_ my mother. How was that possible? My mother knew plenty of people, but what were the odds that my mother would know some random guy I'd run into in a prison cell?

"What? You…you knew my mom? Who _are_ you?" I asked. I finally got out of the bed. My legs felt like jelly for a second. The man moved closer to me.

"You were too young to know me. Your brother probably knows more about this than me…after all, he did save my ass."

Another piece of the puzzle. This wasn't some random guy after all. My brother knew him. My mom knew him. Did _I_ know him?

Then it hit me. Someone from my childhood..._could this be the person I remembered? _"Wait…wait…you _do_ look familiar."

The man let out an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, I'm tired of the guessing games. Name's Bartlett, Jack Bartlett. See, I'm the guy who taught your parents how to fly a goddamn plane and survive long enough so the world could be blessed with your sparking personality." He said. I could only laugh at the obvious sarcasm in his voice, but that was mixed with my total reversal in mood.

_The_ Jack Bartlett, the man who preceded all of us. He was the shadowy figure behind the legend that made mom and dad so famous long before me or my brother, Astrid and Catherine even existed. Now I knew.

"Oh my god…it's you! That guy my parents talked about when we were kids! My mom thought you were dead!"

Bartlett was almost unimpressed with the fact I was impressed at my own revelation. "I was…for awhile. A piece of me died a long time ago…see, back then there was this long pit of darkness and the shadows of evil men…"

I didn't disagree with the rambling statement. This was truly the work of shadows and evil men. But honestly, given my situation, I didn't really care. So I cut him off. And when that happened…every horrible emotion in my body came out in a spew of venom, mockery, and confusion.

"Mr. Bartlett, not to be rude, but could you like…skip the melodramatic shit and explain this to me in plain Osean? I'm freezing my ass off, the last thing I remember was this Kaida guy murdering a bunch of people and this Raji scientist lunatic breaking my nose with a pistol! I am scared to death! I want some GODDAMN ANSWERS!"

I couldn't believe it myself. Bartlett was frozen stiff. He still had the serious look on his face. I found myself breathing heavily. There was nothing but silence between us for only a few seconds. Finally, I spoke, my emotions just calm enough to form non-threatening questions.

"What's going on here? Have long you been in this prison?"

"Let's keep this story as short as possible. I'd been doing some wetwork for the CIA and the Yuke Loyalist government for the past twenty years or so. But this war…everything…not even I could have seen this coming."

"What?"

"Look kid, we're in serious trouble. This place isn't just a prison…it's a chemical plant disguised as a ballistic missile launch center. The Yukes had this chemical weapons project from the 1960s that was dormant until now. The Soma tried to take this place and use it against the Allies…but it seems the mercs had other ideas."

"Praetorian? What are they planning?"

"You remember the 2010 war right? The one your mom and dad fought in? The Yukes were run by a bunch of despots back then. That Dr. Raji is part of the old school Yuke hard-liners. They damn near pulled off a coup back then, but we rescued their president."

"That's right…I remember mom telling me about that."

"Raji and the hardliners want to go back to the old days when the military ran things. But there was just a handful of them. They needed help."

"The Hazri, right?"

"Spot on. Raji's people did it all. _They_ convinced the Soma to go to war against the Loyalists. _They_ detonated the nuke in Ocktabursk! Now that the war's basically over…they're gonna stab the us, the Yukes, and Hazri in the back. Three birds, one stone."

"You mean…this whole war was just a setup?"

"All this time…the same people I worked for were helping tear this country apart. This has taken years to set up. This Kaida guy was the only X-factor…" he trailed off, "I can't believe after all these years…the same political-military scheming that killed so many of my friends, the men and women I trained…so many innocent people…is still going on."

"What exactly are they planning? What do you have to do with this?"

"Like I said, the war's basically over. It just ended sooner than they thought. They were in a panic after Musharak got assassinated. They were afraid his inner circle would expose the truth. Oh, but they got exposed all right…by me. I found out about the whole thing. Then I found out about this place…but not before I got caught. One of my guys was a plant by them. Surprised they haven't killed me yet."

"But what are they going to do?"

"They're going to launch missiles chock filled with Seelow Rot…at the Soma's own people. With that…the war, for all intents and purposes, is over."

I fell down onto the bed. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The cold air was still almost unbearable…but this time, when my hands shook, it wasn't because of the freeze. No, the full realization of what was going to happen hit me in the face.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I said breathlessly.

Bartlett laughed bitterly, "I imagine then that's when they'll kill us. But, they won't get away with it. Just enough people know enough so they can't get off scot free. They damn near pulled the rug out from under our eyes, but we got lucky. But it seems like they don't care. The Allies will come…but I wonder if it'll be too late."

My heartbeat shot up. But it was not the fear of death that drove me. Something happened in my soul. It twisted, made me ill. I hadn't seen too much of what the virus could do. But I knew for a fact my brother had. I'd heard the stories, everything Zarolslav had told me about what it could do to people.

What it had done to her…

But I was protected from it. That was the reason that I hadn't seen the horrors in real time. But I remembered. There was sickness inside of me, but different kind awaited the Hazri…one that would mean, for all intents and purposes, the end of their society.

I was confused. If everything Bartlett had told me was true, then the Hazri were merely pawns in a much larger game. Twenty days ago, if someone told me about that…I'd have thought they were crazy. It was in this cold prison that I realized that just like my parents, my brother and I were part of something even greater than the monster this war had unleashed. It was then I realized that despite this, despite everything I wanted, despite all the horrible things that happened to me and everyone I cared for, it did have a reason. For all my talk of wanting as little to do with the horrors of war, it just wasn't going to happen that way. Everything I learned…for a moment, I wanted to go back to way things used to be, back in those lazy days with Charles and Jason, Rico…and Zanne.

Zanne…

I couldn't cry for her again. _Not this time_, I thought. There was always later. The idea of me dying didn't register in that moment. Not at that time.

It wasn't the idea that the Hazri were innocent, far from it. They hated us, Osea…maybe even deep down they hated themselves for being so backwards. But did all of them deserve to die? If Musharak getting killed told me anything it was that even among the aggressors there were those who did things the right way.

_You just never do things because you're told to do it; you do it because it's right._

I don't remember when my dad said that. But he did say that…but that was when I was a kid. It was so different. I just wanted to do my job and go home.

That wasn't the case anymore. We were in the middle of something that could alter the world forever. It was funny. My parents changed the course of history and were mostly unaware of it until everything was said and done. History was changing before us. I finally knew why my father groomed us to believe that statement…and why I chose to ignore it.

And why my brother embraced it.

We never had a choice. Everything that happened to us was a pre-ordained decision. We were never in control. We never had a say in the matter. Fate decided we would suffer, bleed, and feel loneliness. The Hazri dared us to come here, President Shelley and Bright Hill sent us here, and Raji's men pulled the strings…

My parents never had a choice. Bartlett never had a choice. Neither did Lillian or Cormorance. But they fought through it. They had to survive. For us.

Dulcinea was going to have my brother's baby. He had to survive. For that child. For all of us. And everyone else.

Everyone else. They made the choices they did for those who couldn't defend themselves.

Then it hit me…Raji once asked about inoculating people…why? If he was the instigator behind it all…

_A thief can't fool a thief and a scientist can't fool a scientist. _

_You know what else is equal to 420,000 square kilometers?"_

_No._

…_the Hazri Highlands, a population of about twenty million people._

I was here. History was changing again…and I was in the middle of it. There was no going back. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. My entire body was in a state of mayhem. I could hardly speak coherently. Everything tumbled out at once.

"Twenty million people…what…oh god…oh god…that's horrible! Oh god…it's…just like…it's just the Belkan War all over again! We got to do something!"

But Bartlett's response was nothing indicative of the way I was thinking, "There's probably a regiment sized force here. Good luck with that."

My voice was panicked…I was gasping for air. My voice was quick and almost empty. "And the mercs…what are they going to get out of this?"

Bartlett shrugged his shoulders. "What else do all men with no loyalties for receive for their work?"

_What was this man's problem_, I thought. Did he have any idea what was at stake? Or was he resigned to the fact there was nothing he could do…

"How did they even _get_ the virus in the first place?"

"The Hazri's scientists stole it…it was originally an Osean creation, as you probably know. But, it seems Raji's group managed to infiltrate most of the Hazri government and was secretly pulling the strings. They basically made the Hazri do all the work. But the Hazri's leaders didn't trust each other...and tore each other apart from inside. It's kinda complicated, so let's just say this wasn't something that happened overnight."

As Bartlett finished, the glass of water near the cell entrance shook. The water inside rippled. Then, I felt the ground shake. The table began to move closer to the wall. I dove for the floor, but this wasn't an earthquake though as Bartlett said. He turned my attention to the window. I struggled to get up…and then, the vibrations stopped. The world around me returned to normal, most of it anyway.

I looked out the window, and below was what appeared to be some sort of manufacturing area. But the entire area was covered in smoke. Just above the ground, there was a rocket…blasting into the sky. It was like watching a space shuttle take off. But this wasn't the White Bird my mother told me about. No, given my current situation…it was something horrifying. _What did those traitors have up their sleeves, _I thought.

"Oh, don't tell me they've got nukes now!"

"No…it's the virus rocket. One of them anyway."

My face sunk. I couldn't believe it. I said, "So that's it…we're too late."

Bartlett shook his head. "No…it's too early. It was just one missile."

"Goddamn it! We got to figure out something! We have to get out first, but we need to…"

Bartlett cut me off. "Wait a minute…did you say you _didn't_ want to be a hero?

"Where did you hear that? Damn it, Brandon! Okay…whatever. I mean…just, you know what…forget it. We can't just sit here!"

"Good enough." Bartlett said, masking a chuckle. After he said that, he paced about and muttered to himself. I couldn't understand what he said at first, but his words conveyed deep worry.

"One missile though…that wouldn't be enough to wipe out the entire Highlands…" he said. At that time, I knew he mentioned the missile or whatever it was. But I had no idea what the point of launching one missile would be.

"…so _where_ are they sending it?"

"I can take a wild guess."

Just as he said that, we could hear the latches on the cell door come loose. As it flung opened, I seized up. A few heavily armored guards came in, and behind them was the enemy of the state himself, Ammon Kaida. He was wearing the same suit he had on earlier. He advanced to the front of the guards with his arms out. His attention wasn't focused on me, however.

"Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in. Jack Bartlett. See, unlike Tasha's old man you're in a class all your own. You're the man who changed the fate of an entire world."

Bartlett's response was swift. He pointed his finger right the Versuan. "You can shove that cat right back up your ass…you zoot-suited Verusan prick."

I had to give the man credit there. I probably would have included a few more expletives.

Kaida smiled. "It's such a pity that such a dignified man could be so cruel to such a gracious host."

Kaida then snorted. His demeanor had changed in the blink of an eye. He wasn't the charming bad guy anymore. I'd seen the face before…a look of absolute malevolence. His voice was venomous, his eyes narrow, and his face was full of hatred.

"But it cuts both ways you know…and either of you know nothing about cruelty."

Then he snapped his fingers and his guards went to work. The first one struck him across the face with some riot stick. The second guard followed suit. They kept beating him without mercy. The third and fourth restrained me just as I worked up enough idiotic courage to run over and help him. But they wouldn't stop me. I wouldn't be denied. I forced off the guards with all the strength I had, snagged one of the sticks off the ground and charged Kaida.

"You psychotic son of a bitch!" I shouted as I ran toward him.

I swung at his head. I put every ounce of hatred into that swing. I wanted to do it for me, for Zanne, for my brother…for everyone this traitor had hurt. I wasn't going to give up. Not without a fight.

It was not a good decision.

Kaida stopped my hand in a flash. I stared at him…right into his evil little eyes. I imagined that my face had the most horrific visage ever…a living front of hate and anger. All of it directed at this Versuan turncoat…this so called _man_ who was nothing but an evil, conniving bastard. At that second, he merely smiled. Then, one moment later, I felt a sharp pain across my back. A stinging sensation that flooded my entire body with screams. I dropped the stick. Then, there was another gigantic force against my stomach. It was like Mack truck hit me. Kaida had but his own weapon of hatred and anger. His fist was like Hell itself. My entire body shut down.

I collapsed to the ground and my insides couldn't take it. I vomited a pile of my own blood. Kaida stood over me as I choked and coughed. Then he started to laugh hysterically before he finally said something.

"I think you need to work on your attitude, young lady."

I was finished. I was too weak to stand up. I looked back and saw Bartlett was the same as me, curled in a fetal position and writhing in pain. No choice in the matter. Suffering. Pain. All of it was the volition of these men…and our own choices. But when he said that, I became angry. With the last bit of strength I had, I climbed up as much as I could, just to give him the most poisonous look ever. My teeth were gritted. I was furious. I wanted to kill Ammon Kaida.

But I couldn't do anything…but I wasn't going to stop. I was among nothing but enemies. I had to do something. Kaida made the choice to betray his benefactors all those years ago. As I lay there, he had made the choice to betray everyone. But why? In the past, I knew why he did the things he did. But why now? Why kill twenty million people?

Kaida looked at me with a slight smirk. He then turned to his guards.

"Patch her up…then send her to the med ward. I'll be there in ten."

Suddenly, I was picked off the ground and blindfolded once again. _Where they going to kill Bartlett? What else were going to do to me? Was this going to be the end of me?_

**Brandon**

**Rally Point Romeo Whiskey, Upper Crasia **

**September 13, 2037**

**2322 hrs**

"Incoming!"

Adrian nearly jumped over my back. It was understandable as we both ended up hitting the deck. An RPG round flying through the window tends to create those reactions. We were on the fourth floor of the ruined office and engaged in a rather tense gun battle with the Hazri attackers who'd taken up positions in the buildings about four hundred feet away. Demetrius was on the other side of the room. He'd ducked behind some old desks. The snipers' presence was rather important given the fact the enemy's new positions gave them all sorts of excellent cover…and we had no air or any type of artillery to help us out. It was a game of _rabbit hole, _something we didn't train that much for…a scenario where you had to pick off the enemy the old fashioned way in an urban environment. Of course, we had done it a lot in this shooting war.

But this was at night, with a mixed bag of Allied soldiers and a precarious fortification that felt like it'd collapse at any moment. It was not a good situation.

Alphonso and the lieutenant ran through the door at the same time we tried to get back to our positions.

"Convoy will be here in ten mikes!" LT told us.

"At this rate, we'll be dead by then, sir!"

As if on cue, the building shook. We heard the sound of creaks, as if the building itself was groaning in pain. The middle of the floor collapsed in on itself, and we suddenly found ourselves racing for the exit. Demetrius, trapped on the other side of the room, found a middle section that was still intact. He jumped on the concrete island, and then shot the gap as I grabbed his hand to keep him from falling.

"This building can't take much more of this!" Demetrius shouted, "We need to move!"

Riese stumbled through the hall as we ran out the room.

"This is Ravage 87, we're being surrounded! Where's that goddamn evac!" Riese shouted into the radio.

Suddenly, all our radio nets went live.

"This is Zulu Six! We have a Code Omega! Code Omega! Ballistic missile incoming! Get below ground, now!"

"What the hell…?" Riese and MacGruber said slowly in unison.

_Ballistic missile…_

Then I looked up. We all looked up. In the sky, there was the trace of moving light. It could have passed for a comet, but it was far too close to the planet.

_Ballistic missile._ Those words didn't have much of a meaning to the guys who didn't know much about such weapons. All they knew was that it was a weapon. I saw them. Some were stunned. Some of us ran. It happened too fast.

"Get to cover! RUN! NOW!" the LT shouted.

There was nothing but a blast of a million suns. It was only for a second. I tried to run, but it was too late. I was pushed, violently, from the window by the force of this weapon…whatever it was.

"Holy shit!" I shouted.

I remembered those dreams I had where I was falling. This time, it was for real. There was no ground beneath me for only a second, but there was _no_ ground. There was no time for fear, the instant was nothing more than a flash of light and the sound of a million bombs. There was also the sound of the air being flushed with something. It was only for a second, but I heard it.

I fell.

Then, there was this push at my back. I was propelled forward. It was a familiar feeling. It was the same pressure you felt when an explosion happened near you. It was like me and everything else was being lifted off the ground by some imaginary crane. Then, everything stopped. There was no ground beneath me. I was frozen in the air. I was snagged on something by my arm. Before I could even figure out what I had grabbed, gravity took me again. The entire building began to collapse around me. But I didn't actually grab something then. Something invisible snagged me, my hand pretty much only felt air. Then something strange and thin was on it. I didn't know what it was though. I fell again.

Falling into darkness.

I kept grasping at everything I could. I stopped myself once or twice…but gravity won. I fell into darkness and was stopped by the ground in a violent thump. Glass shattering. Pain. I couldn't hear anything after I hit the ground other than the radio. I was out…but my ears still worked.

_Two Actual? Respond? _

_Two Actual's team just flatlined…what the hell happened?_

_No reponse from Allied units in Romeo Whiskey. What was that missle? Was it the virus?_

_Apostle Actual to anyone in Romeo Whiskey…do you respond? What the hell's going on down there?_

I heard Sorenson's angelic voice. I slowly opened my eyes. Then static was all I heard. Apart from that…only silence. It wasn't the actual concept of silence. It was the kind of silence where the environment only speaks. Silence and darkness.

My visor was shattered open. There was a deep, freezing wind that blew through. Dust was everywhere and it flooded the bottom floor, at least, I thought it was the bottom floor. The air tasted like acid. I couldn't move. I couldn't hear anyone at the moment. My hand, I remembered.

I pulled out my right hand, the one that had been held by the invisible…whatever. The helping hand I couldn't see. It made sense. Then there was this converstation, something that was a small fragment of my mind. Equally important however, was were the help came from.

It came from Dulcinea. Her beads. The necklace was torn in half…

The black whale bones. I remembered now. She was right. Those animals were indigenous to the Ceres Ocean. Ancient natives used their bones to make weapons…weapons that were the equivalent of titanium in those days.

_Black Whale bone…of course_, I thought. Sueltana talked about such animals a few times. The White Rose group had some charity event for them…one of the things that got Dulcinea involved in this war in the first place. Though I knew she obviously didn't know that her charm would be used in the way it was, nor did she know that the very necklace she had was made out of the _very_ thing her friends were trying to protect when she met them. Despite that, she must have felt something about it to tell me it would save my life.

And apparently…it did.

There was a cold feeling inside of me. The slow, deadly poison that every soldier knew couldn't be in his veins. Fear.

Only a few seconds had passed but the silence remained. Whatever had attacked us caused it all. It caused the ground to shake, the world to move, and all the air of the desert blew death around me. It forced me to ask the one question that was either true or false. The possibility of the true was the answer I feared.

_Was I the only one still alive?_

**Tasha**

**Serai Chemical Plant "Golgotha", The Serai Salt Flats **

**September 14, 2037**

**2325 hrs**

My entire body was wracked with pain. I realized then it was just the two of us. Face to face. It was like I was talking to the Devil. It was actually darkly comedic in a sense. I always imagined the Devil in the form of a suave business man. I was strapped to a cold, silver table and the room was filled with everything you'd expect to find in a hospital/lab or whatever. I was on my back on a slanted angle facing him. Kaida was fooling with some device I could barely see.

There was a deep anger inside of me. I saw what his treachery had done. He'd killed Allied soldiers, government people…and now was in league with the enemy. My mother had always been right about him…he was a snake, and it was poison in his system, not blood. But why? I let it all out. I kept stretching my head and my joints, a fury rose in me. Then it hit me…

Fear. I was scared as hell. I was scared to know the answers…but I couldn't stop myself from asking the most important question of all.

"Why are you really doing this? You're gonna wipe out millions of people…just to end the war? Why? What's in it for you?" I asked frantically, "And what was that one missile for?"

Kaida didn't respond immediately. His back was still turned to me.

"Raji's idea of a test run for the Seelow-equipped ballistic missiles. Now he's got the full attention of the Allies. It was an inconveniently timed yet a nevertheless…unavoidable event." He finally said.

"Raji's a Hazri Yuke…why is he apart of this scheme?"

"He's one of them, but not of them. They would not have him among the High Priests, so he swore revenge…or so he says. The truth must be a lot more complicated. He tried to inoculate our solders under the guise of doing it for the Allied forces…didn't quite work out though. Oh well…can't do anything about that now."

"And you?"

Kaida laughed. "My endgame? Is that what you want to know?"

He paused for a long time as he fiddled with the space age controls.

"Sixteen years ago, I lost my son's mother over the skies of a foreign country. You've heard about it, the Fato Crisis?"

I needed to work on my history, but I knew enough.

"Yeah, my mother told me you and your friends got paid by the Fato Militia to fight the humanitarian effort and kick them out just so they could oppress their own people…isn't that right?"

Kaida did something I didn't expect. His eyes sunk for a bit. He seemed sad about something...then his entire body seized, and looked way from me.

"Tasha…there's something you should know." Kaida then threw a metallic object against the wall. His face boiled with anger. He named names…and threw something else every time he said their names.

"Kei Nagase…your father…your _friends_ Lillian and her buddy Mrs. Dietrich and Helena Southerland, Sorenson…Cormorance, your brother…all of them, they're nothing but a club of self-righteous fools." said Kaida, finishing his laundry list of everyone he hated.

I wondered if he truly hated _everyone_, and not just the people he named.

"They fought so hard for what they believe in…and don't even realize that what they believe is corrupt. They lied to you about what happened in Fato because they didn't know the truth about the corruption within their own so-called sacrosanct system that makes up Osea."

I didn't know what to say. They say that are were two sides to every story…but really, none of us or the people he mentioned had any interest in Kaida's side of things. We all thought he was a greedy bastard, my mom in particular. He and my mother _hated_ each other with a burning passion. Fitting he'd save his harshest words for her. Any other time, I'd be pissed if someone called my mother any rude name. But there was a genuine pain there…something that was hard to see. But his eyes…his eyes gave him away.

"Explain."

He turned away from me, slowly shaking his head. He'd calmed down considerably.

"I lied to your brother when I told him that I had no regrets about my life. I only had _one_…and it's not what you think." He turned back to me, "Back then, we were on loan from our PMC to their international branch in North Point. They have rather…lax regulations about military contractors. The Fato Republican Army paid us to assist with putting down a rebellion against their state. We had no flags, no loyalties to fight for. The transaction was _done_. We did what we were told…and we were damn good at it."

"They don't know what the hell was _really_ going on over there. They forget that I was shot down myself. I spent two goddamn years of my life in a prison cell after I failed to save my son's mother from behind enemy lines. She'd died days before in the same prison I was sent to."

_So, that's what it was._ The novel that Lillian and her friend wrote didn't mention it at all. All I knew was that eventually, most of the people in the Spade Six controversy were dead by the turn of 2030. I…really couldn't comprehend that kind of pain. His face…when he mentioned about his son's mother, I could see the sadness in his eyes. I think he saw whatever face I had…because he no longer spoke in a threatening tone. It was then I realized that perhaps, maybe…he wasn't the greedy bastard we all thought he was. But that wasn't true. It hadn't changed what he did.

"Jaklyn Ors. That was her name…and no one cares to remember it. As far as _they_ are concerned, she never existed." He continued, "The Oseans wanted to paint the militia as an evil power hungry bunch. The other side wasn't much better. They were just as bad…and Fato still hasn't changed. It's the same people in charge with different flags and names."

"The Oseans rescued me two years after that war…and my friends and I were made to be the scapegoats of a war we didn't start. Corporate Osea, however, had other plans for Fato."

His face changed when he said Corporate Osea. I should have known better than to let compassion cloud my mind. He _did_ murder or at least had his men murder a bunch of people at the base…Sorenson. Rico. This Ammon Kaida truly was a bastard…and it was clear that whatever happened in Fato contributed to this insanity he was pulling. But what was he truly planning? And why would he even bother telling me the truth?

"Certain…Osean corporations were tied to high ranking militia members and once Shelley and her underlings took control of the Senate, they rammed through law after law enhancing the power of Osea's big business. It destroyed the Private Sector. Military corporations rule Wall Street now. This war is one giant business. The windfall got Shelley elected president, Cain the CEO of H-Corporation, those ridiculous suits your brother's Corps wear…"

"Corporate Osea took over the world…and everyone just watched. They either didn't understand what had happened…or didn't care."

…or perhaps, this insanity was bigger than both of us.

"What?" It was all I could say.

"One poor country after another was taken apart by rich old men." Kaida said, "Cain…you know…the CEO of H-Corp? They made up that whole goddamn fairy tale about where they got the material to build those Ultimate Warrior Suits. They literally stole from dozens of poor countries for fifteen years. They turned my homeland into a gas station."

"President Shelley just let it happen. No one in Osea cared that so many places were torn apart economically. Big business stripped everything away as if it were a giant mine. Your mother was right about one thing. The locusts of business provide some jobs, slowly eat away everything, and then they move on. And it's all for what? Just so your little airhead sister could send texts to her idiot friends…or have the fuel necessary to meet them somewhere."

"What does that have to do with this?" I said.

"My friends died in wars that _corporations_ started…not military despots. When I learned the truth…nothing meant anything to me anymore. Twenty years of war collapsed on me and my entire life became a wasted existence. My entire life was ruined by corporate greed. Hmm…maybe your mother and I have something in common after all." Kaida said, laughing hysterically at the end.

This man…he'd clearly lost his freaking mind. The fate of everyone in Yuktobania was riding on the whimsical madness of Ammon Kaida. I was scared to death. They'd already launched a missile with the virus. There was no telling what this man was capable of now. I had to find out more.

"Why did you work for a corporation then if you hated them so much!"

"Haven't you ever heard of subterfuge, girl? There is no greater joy than tearing apart your enemy from within. It was all a front for a greater goal." Kaida turned to me again, "When I met Raji and learned about his plan, I knew that I and Jaklyn…Othello…Emmanuelle…they would have their revenge."

So that's what it was. Revenge. I had guessed that it was revenge…but I knew it for sure at that point. But that begged one important question…

And yet, I couldn't contain my rage. Something ignited in me once he said that…and I couldn't stop.

"Revenge? Against who? You're gonna let Raji wipe out millions of people just so he could screw this country over again! The same thing my parents and their friends and fought and died to prevent…just so it happen again! This is revenge? You're insane!"

Kaida wasn't fazed at all by my anger. He just simply smirked.

"Raji he wants revenge too, not against the Loyalists…but against the Soma. His own people. He has his own agenda…one slightly different than those Generals he works for. But then again…if you're looking for blame you need not be angry at me."

My face twisted a little, "Huh? Come again?"

"Your own government is the one that started all this. I was unfairly made to be the fall-guy for _their_ corruption in Fato…and every other war that's been fought."

Kaida continued, "Everything Bartlett told you is true. Raji and his organization was the catalyst behind the war. They anticipated the response of Osea and figured that that the new Military Corporate world Osea had created would jump on any chance to increase their bottom line. Raji actually wanted Osea left alone, but he and I had a slight…difference of opinion."

"You see, I only wanted one thing as payment…a Seelow Rot missile of my own and the right to target any place I wanted."

There was this rush of ice inside my soul, it stopped every emotion I had except for worry.

"…and where would that be…?"

I should have known the answer. But it didn't stop him from telling me the truth.

"All the Madam president wanted was a stronger military and despite her and the CIA's machinations…she and her friends allowed me and an overweight doctor to play the greatest April Fool's Day joke this world has ever seen." Kaida had turned away when he said that, but there was a extremely twisted smile on his face. His laugh, almost movie villain evil...and it was then I finally put two and two together, and even I had a hard time choking out the obvious solution.

"You're going to wipe out Bright Hill?"

"Exactly," Kaida said, "…and that's why I need your help."

My breaths had turned into a series of hisses and stammered words. I couldn't hold back the rage. If I had the strength, I would have torn the straps off and strangled this man myself. But I couldn't…all I could do was struggle.

"You son of a bitch! You're a monster!"

"Ironic, isn't it? The machines of death that the Bright Hill helped create: Seelow Rot, Corporate Osea…will be their destruction. All of Oured will be destroyed and the corporate criminals that created it along with it."

Kaida laughed. He turned away from me, a smarmy smirk on his face the entire time, and looked at the silver table. On it were a variety of metal instruments, each one sharp…cold, crooked. It was if was pain was melded into simple machines. To the left of all of them was a syringe and needle. He picked it up and stared at it. I couldn't move…I couldn't speak after that. My anger faded and it became icy, paralyzing fear.

What about Ms. Southerland? Lillian? All my friends in Oured…

They didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve to be the subject of one man's psychotic revenge.

"They'll all come after me." He said, "It doesn't matter. Everyone is about to learn a cruel lesson. Maybe the world will learn from it."

"And that is?"

He approached me. Kaida dropped the smile and put on a serious face as he eyed my arm. He raised it just as he spoke. He didn't take his eyes off me. His words were very slow.

"You and I are more alike than you think. You think I'm insane? Well, if I am, it's not just me. Corruption created me…the insanity of the world. The insanity of this war and the Yukes, and the Hazri…even among your fellow soldiers. And yourself."

He simply jammed the needle into my arm. The pain was meaningless, really. I mean, it hurt…but that was not the problem. It was then I knew that whatever Zarolslav talked about me; my blood, the genes of my family…I was just a pawn in this twisted, murderous game he'd conducted…and even worse, Kaida seemed to make up the rules as he went along. I went from anger to sympathy to anger and then…only vulnerability. It was too late. The wheels were in motion and I couldn't do anything to stop it. But then…

_No…this can't end here! _

"A few weeks before you were born, your father told me something interesting. Your father though we were paradoxes. Your father…your mom and everyone who served in the Verusan War; he believed that we both should have and should _not_ have existed. It took me a few years to figure out what he meant, but now I know."

He then moved closer to me. "You, me…your family, their friends…we are the victims of humanity's greatest folly: hubris. The pain and suffering that we all endured…forced us to inflict it in turn in order to survive. When your father said what he did, I knew he understood. See, unlike your mother, your father always secretly knew the truth, as I do…" he said.

The prick of the needle and my blood flowing into it felt like part of my own soul was bleeding out as well.

"The point is, my girl…" Kaida concluded, pulling out the hypodermic needle filled with red plasma. He paused as he moved away from me. He picked up a box, pulled out a silver tube with one hand, and pressed the plunger emptied it with the other.

"We are _all_ monsters."

Next Chapter: The Monsters of Golgotha (Part I)


	28. The Monsters of Golgotha

Chapter 28: The Monsters of Golgotha

"Monsters…" I said.

Part of me sounded like a little child; one who was afraid of hearing those words. I was afraid of much when I was young. All of my childhood nightmares came alive at once. Brandon used to make fun of me every time we went to the doctor. I was afraid of needles; afraid of seeing my own blood. I had a freak out of the ages when I first got my blood drawn. Even when I was about eight or nine, I couldn't handle it. My brother didn't care. He was tough. Sometimes, I wondered if he ever dared the nurse shove _three_ needles into him.

It was so long ago when I was afraid of the monsters of my imagination. Yet, as I lay on my back on some cold metal table in a foreign country...it was like I was thrown back in time to that exact moment when I clung to my mother, afraid of demons under my bed. But monsters were real...and one of them stood in front of me. And apparently, _he_ thought I was one too...

There was this smirk on Kaida's face. It was that smug look that did it for me. He held back an audible laugh as he turned away from me, placing the vials of blood into the silver container.

_My_ blood.

He believed we were all monsters? At least he didn't deny he was one...

But _me_?

I wasn't a monster.

"My father never believed he was monstrous…you're insane!" I finally spat back at him.

The smirk went away after a little bit. He turned to me, another semi-serious look on his face. At this point, I wasn't sure if he found some sick humor in this vacillation between sympathetic and utterly insane.

"The Versua conflict…it haunted him. It haunted me...all of us. It was on a precedent that no one had seen since the Belkan War. Tens of thousands of my countrymen died in that war, some of them were the victims of the very weapon that was designed to protect them."

"Ciudad." he said in proper Versan, "There are still ruins from back then…you remember the story? You remember the story about the hated regime that turned its own weapon against their capital…against _their_ citizens?"

"And now you're doing the same thing." I said. He stared ahead at the computer screens; the information on the monitors was unreadable.

"Osea was never my home. Even after the war ended, they would not have me. Cormorance and the other Versuan natives in Osea...they no longer have the same "Old World" feel. See to them, I was an outsider. _Racha_, they called me. Do you know what that means in your language?"

"Do you want me to guess?" I spat back.

"It roughly means epoch...a frame of time. They see me and they see fractures of the old Versuan world...nevermind I fought to end that world!"

"My father's friends didn't exactly think you were someone to be trusted."

"Cormorance...that bastard. He helped your mother and Lillian slander my name. Read that book she wrote again...see how Osea's beloved Verusan war hero truly thinks of his own people. After Fato, people hated me...every time I talked to someone, I could feel their disgust. I understand Raji. How it feels…to never be accepted."

"And what I'm doing," he said, turning back to me, "My intent is not senseless murder, girl. My war is with those who brought forth this corrupt system. The innocents caught in its destruction will not die in vain."

"...what?"

"The world will be horrified by what I will do...and the world will be better for it. No one is above judgment."

_Utterly insane,_ indeed. He sat his hands down on the silver table and stared into space.

"Wall Street...Bright Hill...the very institution of Osean politics and business was established to provide freedom, economic growth and the overall well being of its citizens. Behind the scenes, the powerful, as powerful men do, exercised their will and took of that power for themselves. It's only natural for those in charge. But leaders were the ones who were corrupted, not the regular, rank and file of John and Jane Doe."

"The problem is institutional." Kaida continued, "The very heart of everyone who ruled us was corrupted, and in turn...we were corrupted as well. I will wipe it out. Those who filled their pockets with gold and blood money will be gone."

So that was his plan. Some bizarre part of me thought it, in a completely and utterly twisted way, made sense. But the end result was the same...innocents being punished for one man's madness. All I thought about were three names.

Carile.

Helena.

Lillian.

Three names. Three people out of millions of people in Oured. Three people who were my friends and, in a sense, family; close friends of my parents. A woman who flew alongside my mom and dad...and like my parents, gave everything she had to save the world. Endured tragedy, lost friends, witnessed the carnage done by the madness of their enemies.

A bitter pill, that one was. Kaida, ironically, was there with Lillian when it happened.

And it _was_ Lillian who tried to bring Kaida and Spade Six down for their crimes in Fato. Plenty of motive there...

Helena. The woman Lilian loved. The person who didn't have a selfish bone in her body. The woman who'd been heartbroken by her family's disapproval. The woman who inexplicably made my mother a maid of honor.

Carile. She and I were close. I knew how close she was to her mom, how she supported her when her family hated her for audacity of finding another woman that _actually_ cared about her in ways no one else could. It wasn't Lillian that made me snap...it was the redheaded girl with stars in her eyes and white heart. She loved Oured. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to give everything she had like Lillian did for the greater good. She did it because she loved everyone she knew.

And now Kaida was going to destroy everyone she loved...

"That's not going to happen! If you're right...it'll just be the same people in charge! What you're doing makes no sense! It's not going to bring Jaklyn back, you idiot! It's not going to bring your friends back! You're out of your mind! Isn't there some other way to make your point? Why all this!"

Suddenly, Kaida turned back to me and stared. His eyes looked dead and soft. That was the most frightening thing of all. This was not the face of a man who was doing this just because. He actually _believed_ it.

"It won't matter. I'll be dead regardless. And I'm counting on you two...to finish the job."

"Wha...what...what are you doing? Two...you mean..."

Kaida walked over to the table near me. It was less than six feet away. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver and black sidearm. I didn't know what type it was, but it wasn't Osean issue. The handle was a shimmering gray, but the rest of the gun was black. He wasn't holding it in the traditional manner. He simply pulled it out like it was a piece of wadded paper stuck in his pocket.

He forcefully placed it on the table, then spun it 90 degrees so that the back and the hammer section was facing me.

"Yes. I'm going to prove that we're all damned." he said.

Before I could even process what the hell he was talking about, the white door flung open and a trio of people walked in. One was unmistakable fat ass psycho Dr. Raji. The second man was one of the heavily armed mercs, but judging from his slightly more accentuated armor he was probably one of the authority figures. The last person was a middle aged woman. She looked as if someone were to take a blender and put a female librarian, a bespectacled scientist, and a witch into it and hit the highest setting, out would pop this bizarre mix of a woman. She had the body of a spindle. Some part of me wondered if the Seelow had made this woman into an anorexic freak.

"Ah...Victoria...good to see you."

The only thing that went through my head was: _what __**was**__ it with scientists in Yuktobania?_ Zarolslav, Raji, whoever the hell this Victoria was…all of them were among the more abnormal-looking people I'd ever seen.

"Kaida. I never thanked you for the rescue. Is everything ready?" the scientists weirdo said.

Kaida didn't break his disposition, "All preparations are complete. The launch sequence will be delayed due to some mechanical problems...but everything is ready for the 0800 launch."

"Are you sure we shouldn't launch the missiles now? Every moment we waste..." Raji said. He looked like he could sweat bullets. Raji seemed legitimately concerned that something would go wrong. I wanted something to go wrong. Anything.

However, Kaida dismissed it all with a laugh and a jest.

"The Allies would have to cross 180 miles in a few hours. It'll be safe to say they'll be late. We are prepared for an early launch if things go south." He said.

The black suited man finally spoke, "The eastern cosmodrome is still under camouflage for now, but it'll take at least two hours to prep once the access codes are entered."

"Jackson," Kaida began, as I assumed this Jackson was the man who spoke of…whatever the hell a cosmodrome was, "take Alpha and Bravo companies to the site and await further orders."

Something caused me to stiffen. Maybe it was true courage...something I hadn't shown a lot of in my life. However, all I could think of at that point was at some point, I stopped being afraid of needles.

"So…how did the test launch go?" Kaida asked.

"Successful…and regrettable." Raji said.

"Excuse me?" Kaida asked, completely confused. But he turned to neither of them.

I guessed it didn't matter. I couldn't move my hands or my legs. I sank back down and shook my head. I wanted to scream in anger. There was nothing but white hot rage, but it didn't translate into any struggle from me. All I could do was seethe in pain and wished I could free myself. And yet the reality was simple...

Kaida had to be stopped.

"It seems members of Osea's newest military unit were among the fray…and several of them were still alive." Raji said. When he said that, I noticed he was a little choked. He was afraid of what Kaida would say. The Versuan madman turned on a dime and walked over to Raji. He and Victoria backed off, and Raji looked like he'd swallowed a fur ball.

"Do you know who survived?" Kaida asked.

"I don't. But everything I stole from Sorenson's notes would indicate there's a good chance that this was not a coincidence."

I wondered was whether I would get the chance to kill Kaida myself. However, a haunting thought crept into my mind. I thought about Bartlett and what he said. Then I shook a little. The old man on the floor, brutally beaten by Kaida's mercenary thugs, it made me shiver. My fate would probably be much worse if I fought back.

But I had to do something.

I looked at all of them, Victoria, Raji, Kaida…

They were highly intelligent people. But deep under the veneer of _evil genius_, they were nothing but malevolent, bloodthirsty monsters. Their business dealt in the horror of science and the sickening scent of money covered in blood. They had the audacity to decide the fates of millions of people in some science lab. And for what?

It was all for revenge and greed. It was disgusting. Horrific.

There was no way in hell my parents wouldn't have taken this lying down. No way would they have allowed anyone, much less Kaida, get away with this. They gave everything and they had nothing to show for it. The world was _still_ ruled by the same insane standard they battled against countless times.

"And so the die has been cast." Kaida said, staring at the gun he left on the table.

He then walked away and towards the door, not even turning to face me. I could clearly see two heavily armed guards outside. Raji and Victoria followed suit. _Why did Kaida leave the gun?_

Kaida stood at the door's entrance and shook his head. He then spoke quickly and less audible. He said his words, badly assuming that I couldn't hear him.

"That lucky son of bitch…it _has_ to be. Just like his father. He just won't die!"

I wasn't sure how to react, but it was quite obvious who he was talking about.

**Brandon**

**2345 hrs**

There was a point in my sojourn to Yuktobania where I stopped and thought about my own death. I didn't remember exactly when it happened. Maybe it was when we hung out with the trio of Yuke teenage killers. We wondered what drove them. It was revenge. It was a twisted sense of patriotism. It was somewhat drug-fueled as well. We wondered if they thought about dying themselves...and it was "Suzie" of all people, who said she didn't really care sometimes. We were shocked by this, not realizing the irony that most of us were eighteen, nineteen, and twenty year old killers.

Who was to say that if Osea were to suffer some horrific civil war that we would be in their shoes too?

That's what I wondered.

Somewhere along the line, I realize I hadn't weighted my own mortality as much as I should have. In basic, they broke us down and built us back up. They tried, and succeeded, in creating a family atmosphere where loyalty, honor, and the desire to defend the country, family, and the Osean Way were paramount. Of course, none of us were stupid enough to think we weren't putting our lives on the line. We were trained never to think about it. But it was impossible.

Death was everywhere. Yuktobania had become a living hell. The casualties were staggering. One could take their pick for the cause, not counting Seelow Rot.

That cursed disease was, for all intents and purposes, the largest biochemical disaster in human history.

I remembered the hatred I felt for the enemy. This entire war was the fault of a section of the Yuke population who wanted to rebel against the Republic, the same Republic my parents, inadvertently, helped create. The Hazri created this nightmare; a horrific dream from which there was only one escape. The escape was on the enemy's actions. Shelley bade us to come here at the goading of the corrupt Hazri government. So we came. We arrived in country…guns out, tanks rolling, along with planes fueled and behind them came the fortitude of young men and women barely out of their teens.

I was among them. I was fired up and angry. I had a personal stake in this. My girlfriend was over here with humanitarians. My sister and her child lived here. Some of our fellow Marines had family from Yuktobania.

I thought we were going to kick ass, take names, and plant our flag in the middle of Merkava, the so-called Holy City of the Hazri Highlands.

_What did we find?_

We found nothing but a cursed wasteland and a complete lack of knowledge about what truly happened. We found an enemy that we derided because of a perceived lack of toughness...only for them to prove they could hit back just as hard. We found a sickness that went deeper than that of Seelow...the sickness of the human condition. We learned what everyone was truly capable of; us and the enemy. I learned what I could do.

I was capable of some horrifying things.

One could've chalked it up to human nature. But it was something deeper than that. This war had turned us all insane. And in the end...

_What did we truly gain?_

My parents' wars didn't accomplish much at all. The only positive thing was my mother and father found each other. My mother finally got what she always wished for all her life: a family of her own. A true family. Yuktobania and Osea? Peace, for six years...then my sister Catherine and thousand others died in a senseless attack by Versua...and the subsequent war tore Versua to pieces. It damn near destroyed Yuktobania, and Osea was never the same. My family was nearly destroyed altogether before either me or Tasha or Astrid was even born. They lost so many friends and suffered constantly...and really, the only thing they still had was each other.

My father was hardened for a second time and saved the world. But my parents, Lillian, Cormorance, and all who survived that struggle were never the same.

Nine months after that horrific war...Tasha and I were born. My parents carried nightmares. They carried visible and mental scars. And we, their children, also carried the scars they had…but we couldn't see them. However, my mother got her family back...and that was enough for her.

Now I was in my father's shoes. But one thing was clear...I wasn't a hero. Not yet.

I had to survive first. Kaida was right...and wrong.

I had to make sure I had something to take from this nightmare.

My sister was dead. Her daughter wouldn't be normal again. I'd seen innocent people become casualties of a war that evil men had started. I'd taken many lives, innocent and enemy. I endured insults from people I thought were my friends. Sometimes, I thought I had lost my mind. Tasha had lost much as well. I didn't know if she knew about Sueltana or Lucy but...

It didn't matter. But I knew what I had to do and that was good enough for me. So I picked myself off the ground...and I made the decision for myself.

I had to do it for Dulcinea. I had to do it for a little kid I hadn't met yet. Well, my child was more a collection of floating cells and what not, but he or she was still my kid. If I survived, I could pass on my parents' wisdom to this child and I'd have done my duty to the world.

I had to live to pass on the lesson I'd learned in this short window of terror I'd experienced.

_Humanity was c__apable of truly horrific things. But we could prevent them._

I hardened myself. Now it was time to figure out how to survive. And more importantly, to figure out if I was the only one who _had_ survived.

The silence faded away as I picked myself off the ground. They were the usual voices I'd heard many times. There was that obvious misplaced ghetto speak of Adrian, the equally vernacular-filled sound of Demetrius, and the Hollywood accent of the celluloid wannabe Cameron. These weren't voices in my head. They were all calling for me. I didn't know if they knew I'd somehow survived falling through a decent sized office building.

Then I wondered…_how the hell did Adrian and Demetrius get down to the first floor that fast?_

Then again, they were near the stairs and I was near the edge…

It hit me. I froze up. Something held me in place when it happened. I didn't even know what made me pull out Dulcinea's beads in the first place. I didn't remember putting them on my arm. I decided that for whatever reason, I did _in fact_ put them on my hand for good luck at some point.

Good luck indeed.

I didn't hear LT's voice though. I didn't hear Allen. I didn't hear Jenks or Janson. I didn't know where the others were.

Looking out of the corner of my eye, I saw the somewhat diminutive Cameron crawling out of some rubble near my location. His mask was completely shattered and I could barely see it, but clearly the broken glass had caused him some injury.

Then I heard the one voice I really needed to hear. A figure burst out of the right ruined zone of the first floor. He was frantically trying to raise someone on the radio. He seemed disoriented, but clearly trying to gain some control of the situation.

Alphonso.

"You guys alright? Where's the LT? Anyone left?" He asked. His head whipped around like it was about to fall off at a moment's notice. He did it over and over as he looked for us. Finally, he made eye contact with me and let out a sigh of relief.

It was rare to hear Alphonso frantically say anything. But he busted out of the stairwell as if nothing had happened at all. He knew, but it certainly didn't look like he fully realized we'd been hit by some Hazri weapon of mass destruction. He was completely unscathed.

A smile came over my face. I realized then it wasn't just about me...I had to survive for the people who had to take something back with them as well. The Sergeant walked up to me.

"Where the hell were you?" Alphonso said. His tone of voice seemed both annoyed and surprised.

"I fell."

"What? How the hell did you…well, you are quite the lucky charmed one around here anyway."

Alphonso's voice didn't seem humored in any way when he said that. He sat down on a piece of rock. Behind him, stirred by our voices, an extremely disoriented Captain Riese dug herself out from under a pile of rubble. Alphonso and I rushed over to her. She was completely starry-eyed and her head was bleeding. We picked her up, but she fell right back down maintaining that dazed look. It was like she'd taken a brick to the head and somehow could still function; well, somewhat function.

I wondered if she even knew where she was anymore.

We set her down on a relatively smooth surface that had somehow survived the destruction. Most of the walls of the building had been destroyed, but some of the staircases were still intact.

"Where's the LT?" I asked.

Alpohonso paused for a short moment. It wasn't a long one, but it was just long enough for us to figure the worst. He the pointed to the opposing staircase…the one me and Demetrius had ran towards. That was where I stopped to look above at the incoming missile. Wash kept running. I did not.

"Dead. He…the floor gave way after we got into the stairwell. I barely stopped myself before…well…you know. I managed to climb down but…"

If Alphonso struggled for words, that meant even he, the hardened veteran, was shaken by this. Alphonso was special. He was the NCO who refused to let the little stuff get to him, as was expected of a good leader.

He didn't need to say anymore.

My heart sang a little. The Lieutenant? Dead? It was hard to have an emotional connection with someone I'd only known for a few weeks, if that. But the LT was a good guy, a good officer. He was barely older than any of us. MacGruber stood buy us, fought with us, and asked the same questions we sometimes did. He was firm but fair, but he could crack a joke every now and then. _Think on your feet, do it_...that was his mantra. LT led by example.

And he was gone.

"What about the others?"

"They were outside when it hit, the entire front wall collapsed. Janson was on the backside and the entire left side of the third floor collapsed.

"Some of them…just died. It was obviously Seelow that got them…if the collapse didn't.

I didn't know how to feel at first. I knew I'd miss him and the other guys. Some of my comrades were gone. I'd trained with them, sweated and bled with them...and they were gone too. I couldn't process it.

We were all that was left.

"What the hell did the Soma throw at us this time?" I asked.

"Whatever it was, they didn't seem to care about their own troops…wiped out their entire battalion. At least I hope it did." Alphonso said.

"How could they not have shot that down? Don't they have those A-Sat missiles or something?" Demetrius said.

"It doesn't matter. And it doesn't change what we need to do. We still have a mission. We got to get this intel back to command." Alphonso countered.

"How! Our LARA's are messed up and we've got no radios!" Cameron said.

Perhaps the others were outside. I ran over to where I could see outside. It was complete darkness. I could hear wind blowing but there was no distant gunfire, no vehicles functioning. I saw what Cameron talked about. The LARAs had been completely thrashed by the frontal collapse. There was large pile of rubble exactly where the LARAs had been positioned. Only one of them was still intact, and that wasn't saying much. Course, considering Cameron's driving skills…we may have been better off walking back.

"How did you get out anyway Cameron?"

"I tried to tell the others to button up but I got in just in time, all that crap missed my vehicle. Then…the vibration…it just shattered Allen's helmet visors. He was outside the LARA…trying to get in. He didn't have a chance. Just choked and died. Janson and Jenks got buried under the rubble. Vitals went dark on the monitors."

"We all went dark then. Everybody back at command must think we're dead." I said.

Alphonso shook his head.

"The convoy should still be on its way. We need to regroup with any survivors and get to them…if they've survived the attack. Wash, Adrian…start searching for any functioning radios. We don't have time to recover any bodies yet though. If Cameron's vehicle is still working, we'll use that to get back to command." He said.

Speaking of Riese, she was completely dazed and confused. Adrian had finished bandaging her head, but she still looked like she was a mental patient trapped outside the asylum. Somehow, the container where she kept her sensitive data was still intact. Adrian tossed it to the Sarge and he secured it in special envelope; kinda looked like one of those special biohazard containers doctors used.

I didn't have time to tally the dead, nor did I want secure them. I was busy as I tried to help Wash and Adrian, who despite their scout/sniper skills weren't really the best at radios. No one got left behind, but in our case, we really didn't have a choice. We had to get this intelligence back. We resigned ourselves to this task. Whatever the Hazri launched at us, what Riese said about a chemical plant…

It was probably linked. It was too convenient.

"I got it!" Adrian said. We'd spent about five-six minutes repairing Wash's portable radio…well, _I_ spent that time repairing it, Adrian just jumped up and acted like he did all the work. He tossed it to Alphonso. He dialed up an open channel, an odd thing to do unless it was an emergency. However, this was quite the emergency. After all, we were still in enemy territory. The enemy had been wiped out by their allies' own attack, but it wouldn't stop the Hazri behind them from attacking us. We were still in the middle of a massive enemy counter attack. The rest of our company was getting hit hard as Battalion was holding off the enemy at Sasir. Our troubles were just the beginning.

"This is Juliet Werewolf Two Actual to any friendly units in the area. We are combat ineffective in section Romeo Whiskey, Grid 121-X235N. How copy? I repeat, this is Juliet Werewolf…"

A male voice came over the radio. His voice was deep, much deeper than Demetrius'.

"This is Apostle Two-One to Juliet Werewolf Two Actual. What is your situation, over?"

"We have suffered heavy losses from an enemy ballistic missile of unknown origin; casualty numbers unknown. We are perparing. How copy?" replied Alphonso.

"Solid copy. Stand by for transmission from Apostle Actual."

"Send it."

The next voice was...someone quite familiar. A woman.

"This is Apostle Actual, Juilet Two Actual, chopper evac is enroute to your position. ETA, ten minutes. Hold your position."

"Solid copy, Apostle Actual." Alphonso tossed the radio back to Wash. He had a bewildered look on his face.

I looked at Alphonso and he and I had similar reactions. Everyone else looked at us for a moment, confused as to why we looked so concerned.

"Was that who I think it was?" I asked.

_Kind of a silly question_, I thought. I knew the truth of course. It was bizarre. I never thought I'd ever have the strange and incredible story my parents did. In fact, many people who knew the truth about who they really were barely believed it either. My parents' story was more suited for the exaggerated cinema of Hollywood or some popular bit of science fiction. Hell, my parents' life could easily outclass _The Raven Bauer Project _in the _contrived and flat out impossible_ department.

And yet, the twisted reality I'd found myself in was anything but contrived. This. Was. Real.

I mean, the mere fact I was the target of attention from an (admittedly) attractive business woman who just happened to work for Bright Hill's most secretive organization was almost impossible to believe. My sister had apparently befriended a Yuke scientist who looked like an alien.

Odd thoughts aside, we set up positions to watch for signs of the evac. Of course, there wasn't much to watch in the dark, but we could hear helicopters. They came on slow, then the sound of the whirling blades picked up. Someone lit a few flares and dropped them outside the ruins. There were three helicopters in all. Very advanced ones. They looked like Blackhawks, but they were plated and curved in places. It was quite obvious who this was.

It was Sorenson. Again. I was not surprised.

The choppers landed. The last one had several heavily armed men touch boots on the ground and fan out like it was a Special Forces op. The second chopper held another group of soldiers to entered the ruins to secure the area. It was nothing too surprising. But when Sorenson landed…there was no pretty black dress and silhouette lace. No, not this time…

Sorenson was dressed in Mark III Series Dragon Plate. I could tell. The army used that model. It wasn't anything close the UWS that we had, but it was pretty damned elite. At her side she carried the older X-7 VV3-ACR, the rifle that the X-8 replaced.

She was ready for battle.

This was not like the Lower Crasia. It felt like an eternity and yet it was only two to three days ago since I'd last seen her. Then I looked behind her and saw Ivanava Zarolslav. The bizarre scientist herself was dressed in the so-called "Juggernaut" suit. It the same armor that _Marine ordinance removal_ detail used for clearing out improvised explosives. If she and a _scientist_ was at our position loaded for bear…that only meant one thing.

Something big was going down; something even bigger than us.

The pair walked up to our group as we emerged from the ruins.

"What are you doing here?" I could only ask her. One thing was very clear from the moment I saw her.

This was not the glib, black dress wearing Sorenson I met in Bethlehem Park. The fire behind and around us lit her visage up to the point where I could make her facial features. Her eyes were almost...smeared. It was too familiar. There were these streaks of dark, purplish lines from the edge of her eyes. I'd seen it a few times from Dulcinea. Mascara smear.

She'd been crying.

Why?

Her voice sounded broken. "Listen...we don't have a lot of time, so I'll be brief. I'm requisitioning your company...we need to get to the Salt Flats ASAP."

I completely ignored what she said.

_Why?_

I couldn't speak. I couldn't get over that. _Helena Sorenson_, the so-called executive of military personal affairs, or whatever the hell she called herself...the so-called government agent of the CIA representing Hephaestus or whatever the hell she did for Bright Hill...

What would _she_ have to cry about? Somewhere along the way, I forgot she was more than just an onyx suit wearing stateswoman who spit out politics, political correctness and clichés. She was just as human as I was. She was a woman who felt things. She had kids...a husband. She had people she loved. And apparently, she cried when she was sad.

Helena Sorenson was human.

And yet...what Seelow did to her...what it did to me...

What I saw from her in the Lower Crasia, when she did her track team impersonation...

The reason I was so surprised at her tears was because I had spent days and weeks living as a monster. I slept on the ground, in the rain, in the cold, and I ate like an animal. I was a slayer of men. I'd killed many enemy soldiers, some of them in cold blood...

I reveled in death like a monster would.

For the first time I wondered if _I_ was truly human anymore. But all I could wonder was...

"Uh...excuse me?"

"We've been had...all of us. This war wasn't about us and the Hazri...it was about the old and new schools of the Yuke Government. The old regime started this...they want to take things back to the old days. The communist, hard-line regime...they tricked us into fighting their own war for them!"

"What?" we all shouted.

"I know this is confusing...hard to believe. I know, I have a hard time believing it myself."

"But why do you need us?" I asked. In fairness, it sounded obvious...but some part of me wondered if it was a stupid question.

"All my special forces were here...and they're all dead. Those psychos are going to launch Seelow Rot at the Hazri Highlands!"

"Wait...well...who cares?" Cameron said. "They're the enemy...who gives a rat's ass what happens to them!"

Helena walked briskly up to Cameron and grabbed him by the top armor section of his suit. She angrily pulled him to her and ripped off his helmet in a fit of absolute rage.

"So you want the deaths of millions of innocent people on your conscience...and besides, what's stopping them launching that poison at Osea when their done!"

Helena was utterly possessed. She was hissing between her words and poor Cameron looked scared for his life. Helena released Cameron so violently he dropped to the ground. Wash became angry and approached Sorenson, cursing at her all the way. Adrian tried to hold him back. And Sorenson stared at him with a set of poisonous eyes...as if she wanted to beat the shit out of Wash herself.

Zarolsav and Alphonso separated the two.

A woman from the upper crust of society facing down someone from the ghetto...

If I couldn't have told Sorenson had been crying about something before and knew something was amiss, her faceoff with Demetrius Wash of all people...would have told me everything I needed to know. But it was fairly obvious that the purple-eyed exec wanted to get our attention that something in Yuktobania was _horribly_ wrong.

Then I forgot that she was ex-military herself. It was unsettling, though, to watch her instant transformation from saddened to shockingly furious.

The tension and tempers quickly disappeared as everyone else was in utter shock. Helena turned away. She was shaking. She obviously did not mean for her rage to manifest itself in that way. She then turned towards me. She was breathing heavily, her lips trembled too. Then she stiffened the second I stepped back a little.

I knew that maybe, sometime in the past, she had to do something like that to a subordinate or an equal. I knew then she had all the qualities of a perfect leader. I'd seen all sides of her. The kind Helena, the firm Helena, the crass Helena, the embarrassed...

The melancholy Helena...

And apparently, the kick ass bitch that told you when things need to get done Helena.

"Under whose authority are you even giving us these orders?" Alphonso finally asked, having allowed cooler heads to prevail.

"General Malleus has approved it...we're moving all Allied front line units into the Salt Flats. Your company will be behind us. We need to destroy Project Golgotha...and finally finish this business with Seelow Rot."

"Project Golgotha? What the hell is Project Golgotha?" I said.

"It's a special chemical weapons program. I'll explain more later." She replied.

Alphonso was a spiritual guy. Everyone made fun of him because of it at one point or another. But deep down, everyone knew that the Spainian/Hazri-born man was also the archetype of a good leader. No one, not even Wash (most of the time), could argue that Adair didn't know what he was doing. And sometimes, a good leader had to be a pragmatist and say things like...

"If the big bad general says it's so...that's all I need to hear. Let's move guys." he said.

"What? Just like that?" someone said, I don't remember who.

"But you still didn't answer my question...why do you need us?" I asked more forcefully.

Helena looked at me with a set of disappointed eyes. She looked at me like my mother would sometimes when I was a teenager...that exasperated look after she'd told me to do something for the third time.

"You survived this attack, right?"

"Wait...oh...OH!" I said.

I felt like a total moron. But I was not in the mood for a physical display of self-deprecation.

"You get the picture." Sorenson said, looking away slightly. Some of the others started to gather equipment from the chopper and I saw Zarolslav exchange a look of deep concern with the business executive/CIA operative...or whatever the hell she was.

But for a moment, I forgot Sorenson's delicate mental state. I walked up to her.

"Hey...what's wrong?"

She began to walk away from everyone. Before she turned, her face told me everything. She looked dead now. It was like I was asking her the meaning of life. Her walk, her eyes, her body movement, it was like she was the walking dead. It was unusual, me talking to her like I was her friend.

"My sister...she's dead."

It took me only a second to understand. The twin...the one I met before, the one who called herself Helena, was actually Hilde...and she was dead. Unbelievable.

_But how? Why?_

_No_, I thought, _don't ask about it now_.

"Where is this place we're going?" asked Alphonso as he ran up behind us.

"Serai Chem Plant...a long way from here. We're going to chopper in and stop the launch...if we can."

We walked back to the others.

"Man, this is going to be some crazy special forces shit, huh?" Adrian said.

Typical Adrian. He was only concerned with the excitement of the mission, not the cost. No one mentioned how the LT was dead. How our friends were dead. We didn't have time. There was a mission. You were taught as a soldier to ignore the cost when there was a mission and just do it. We were Marines. We followed orders. If General Malleus said that we were going to take back a chemical plant with weapons of mass destruction in them...that's what had to do.

And really, we didn't have a choice.

Obviously, the situation on the line had deteriorated. Because of the Hazri counterattacks and whatever missile the Hazri launched to wipe us out and their own men along with it, Command thought we were the most capable soldiers for this assignment.

It all felt wrong.

But that was what we had to do. And if we didn't do it...who would?

"Perhaps," Sorenson responded to Adrian, "If you need more convincing, it seems they're holding a Marine hostage."

Everyone froze. No more convincing needed.

"What? Oh hell no!" Adrian shouted.

"Who was it? Do you know?" I asked.

Sorenson hesitated. It was something she didn't do that often. She then started to move away from me and back to her comrades. Something was guiding me...and I couldn't figure out what it was. I wasn't sure if it was the perplexed, saddened look on her face...or some instinct I probably got from my dad about people...

"Who was it, Helena?" I asked more boldly. _Strange_, I thought. I wasn't sure if that was the first time I'd called her by her first name. And really, she wasn't really the type of person I would address with a first name.

Something guided me. It wasn't a voice in my head. It was like an invisible hand that forced me into action. And so I acted...

I ran up to her and forcefully pulled her to me. The cognition was complete at this point. I wanted to know. Sorenson had never failed to answer any of my questions unless she said she couldn't. Why now? Why was she pulling away from me? What did she know? What was the secret she wouldn't tell me? She looked right at me when I asked her who it was.

"Who?" I asked, angry.

She didn't say anything initially. She looked dumbfounded. Then my grip softened a bit. Her face, it was Lucy back in Maurine...the look of a frightened child. It stunned me. Zarolslav stared me down with an expression that almost matched Helena's...

I still couldn't believe what was I seeing, even after I knew of her melancholy disposition.

Sorenson looked right into my eyes with a sympathetic look. I couldn't move at all. It was only for a few seconds. It was her eyes that gave it away. There was no glow in the middle of her purplish-blue pupils. For a few seconds, it felt like everyone else was magically teleported to some faraway land, and we were the only ones left in the desert. I had demanded the answer, but her look, her _eyes..._it told me what I needed to know without her opening her mouth.

However, when she actually did, I wasn't ready for it.

"Your sister." she said.

Chapter 29: Epoch


End file.
